They Say Kill
by violaqueen93
Summary: I can't seem to keep my hands from shaking. Sleep? Not a chance. I'm not meant for this competition. I have all the skills, I'm strong and fast and a survivor, but what I don't have is the backbone to kill. And in this world, there's no other options.
1. Prologue

I was always fascinated by how certain people could face their own deaths without blinking an eye. As if their own life didn't matter, as if their own destruction was simply an obstacle to be overcome rather than the end. Death was only the next adventure for them, full of mystery and wonder. It was intriguing, confusing, captivating, how one could let go of all they had on this earth, in this life, and simply glide onto the next without protest. For the majority of us, we clung to the last drops of our life as fiercely as a mother safeguarding her children, desperate for that one last sensation, that one last farewell, that one last kiss. And when we received these things, or could not delay the inevitable for any longer, we were simply gone.

But as much bravery these people possess, even their courage will inevitably fail them. How is it that those people could walk boldly, proudly, into the arms of Death, but when faced with the loss of a loved one, turned away and lied to themselves? The strongest man in the world could be brought to his knees by the passing of his infant daughter, and even the most cold blooded of us could be nearly incapacitated by the grief resulting from that one gap in the emotional armor the hardest of us wore.

As I look back on my life, I see the eighteen year old girl I should have been. That I had been. Carefree, innocent, life still full of surprises and sunlight. But that girl is now just a dream, an illusion created to taunt me, to show what I had lost. The sea that seemed to always sync with my emotions, whether it be waves pounding the cliffs or so still the sky itself seemed to be swallowed up in its vastness. The smell of the air, fresh from the sea and the wildflowers that always grew along the shoreline. The strong hands that enclosed mine in their warm grasp, the slight brushing of lips across my forehead. Eyes that matched the water in shallow tide pools by the ocean. The elements that made me who I was, the irrefutable parts that with their removal would completely and utterly change me to the person whose eyes I see through now.

A storm had touched down, and with a wrath akin to that of the Creator Himself, had swept away all semblances of the girl I was. Bright lights slowly extinguished, some in the initial squall, others later, doggedly persisting until they shrank to pinpricks of nothingness. Cut adrift, I wandered.

But as they say, not all who wander are lost. In the strange twisted place in which I found myself, I was not alone. Others, with no light to guide them, wandered like me. By chance and coincidence, I collided with another vulnerable soul and from it came a tiny spark of light. Just tiniest hint of a glow, but to the desperate beings we were, it was blinding. We clung together, and the light grew until it obliterated everything else.

But in that world, in that life, such brightness was impossible. That world was composed only of shadows, of darkened streets and crumbling buildings, of blood splattered pavements and leering faces. A place where only horror lived, where spectral beings ruled with an iron fist. Loved ones could be torn away in an instant, no matter how desperately we tried to shield them. Our lives were spent in the murky depths of doubt and uncertainty. I was no exception. With one swift moment, my newfound light was eradicated.

Fear, though, has no place where I am now. I'm drifting, in that place dreams go in the moments after waking. Images dance tantalizingly before my eyes, welcoming me into their presence. I allow them to flow around me, embracing the sensation, lighter than air, a tranquil place that is as rare as the fleeting sensation of hope. My hands are washed clean, my whole body wiped of any impurities. My dreams beckon me forward, to go with them to a place where I know I'll be loved, to a place that's light and airy, a place where nightmares don't exist. But alas, my spirit still clings to a small pinprick of light, the last remaining bit of my extinguished light, my only anchor to the convoluted life I had lived so long ago. And try as I might to sever that which chained me, as much as I try to extinguish the light, it persists, glowing with a brightness that slowly intensifies and draws me closer, further away from my dreams. Though I should be angry, should be fighting the light, I let it pull me in. There's a burst of light.

It's the most beautiful color I've ever seen.


	2. Almost Over, Almost Safe

"Do you ever think what would happen if you were reaped?"

I winced at her words, lowering the spear I had in my hands. "No. Why would I?"

"Not even what you'd say, what you'd do?" Gwylan, my training partner asked me thoughtfully. "What you'd say to the cameras and all?"

"No," I responded shortly, picking up the spear again and hurling it at the dummy. Bulls eye, as usual. Gwylan shrugged, picking up her own spear and following suit.

Around us, the training center was an echoing cacophony of noises, the clashing of swords, the thumps of weapons striking a target, the urgent shouts and yells of those running the assault course all blending together into a deafening racket. I'd long learned how to tune out the noise, and my mind wandered back to Gwylan's words . _Do you ever think what would happen if you were reaped?_

I had lied to her in my answer. The truth was, I did think about that, all the time. About what that would feel like, to have my name echo throughout the amphitheater and feel the eyes of the entire District fastened upon my slow walk to the stage. The truth was, it terrified me.

Involuntarily, my eyes flickered to the far side of the training center, zeroing in on a pair of pictures toward the center of the arrangement. The girl was unfamiliar to me, just another trainee I had met in passing. But I knew the boy's face.

"Breakman! Cresta! Get over here!"

We both jumped at the angry bark of one of our instructors, just now realizing that the gong signaling the end of the day had already sounded, everyone else congregating in the middle of the training center. Quickly stowing the weapons, we jogged over to catch the end of day brief, shrugging our way in between the other sweaty, tired trainees.

"...tools but it's up to each and every one of you in the end to stay alive," our head trainer, Damarion Surez, growled. "Now tomorrow's the reaping. Hopefully none of you are chosen, and hopefully none of you are stupid enough to volunteer." He paused for a second, his eyes sweeping over a few of the trainees with a skeptical expression that clearly expressed his doubt. "Try to get enough rest tonight. If you are chosen, well, just don't do anything stupid. Understood?" There was a general murmur of assent and he nodded, satisfied. "Alright. Last years, I want to talk to you all right after this. Dismissed."

Gwylan squeezed my hand then went with the rest of the girls to shower and change. I crowded around Damarion with the rest of those whose last reaping was tomorrow, nervous grins crossing our faces. We were almost safe. By this time tomorrow, we would all be celebrating our newly gained freedom from the Hunger Games. Already I felt giddy, electrical. Several of the guys playfully pushed each other, laughing. It was almost over.

"Okay okay guys." Damarion said in an attempt to quiet us, a small smile crossing his face. "I know you all are excited, but it's not done yet, you hear? It's happened before, it'll happen again. Hopefully none of you."

This sobered us up some, our smiles fading. Many stole glances at the picture I had been looking at earlier, the picture of my brother. It was everyone's greatest fear, almost being able to taste the freedom then having it cruelly ripped away in one awful, heartbreaking moment. When Mitch had been reaped, everyone felt it.

One of the trainers shifted uncomfortably at this, and I spared a withering glance in his direction. Finnick Odair, victor from 6 years ago, met my gaze then looked down, ashamed. As he should be. I felt the old anger rise up inside me, flickering in my chest and with some effort forced myself to calm down. I had better things to expend energy on. He wasn't worth the effort.

"Party in the training center tomorrow night!" one of the guys shouted, and he was met with loud whoops and cheers. Our excitement couldn't be held down for anything, and Damarion held his hands up in mock surrender.

"All right, all right, you guys win!" Damarion joked, laughing. "But until that time you all are still trainees okay? Don't embarrass me tomorrow, that's all I ask."

"You're coming to the party tomorrow aren't you?" one of the trainees demanded, hands on her hips. "You said you would!"

"Yeah! Finnick and Kai as well!"

The rest chorused their agreement, egging on Damarion, who was shaking his head emphatically, and Finnick and Kai, who shrugged and laughingly nodded, met with shouts of approval. Finnick and Kai, the most recent victors, were relatively young, only a few years older than us. Kai was only 22, having won 5 years ago at the age of 17. Finnick was even younger, winning his Games a year before Kai at 14, the current record. He was only 2 years older than most of us.

* * *

><p>The sun felt abnormally hot today, beating down on the thousands of people within the giant amphitheater, but I barely noticed. I was the happiest I had ever been at a reaping. My last one. All of us in the 18 year section were chatting animatedly, making plans, trading gossip. Rumors of who was planning to propose to who after the Reaping was a hot issue as normal, and we all kept stealing glimpses of the boy's side, wondering who might have a ring in their pocket all ready to pop the question after the ceremony. Weddings were a common occurrence in the weeks after a Reaping, after the threat of the Games was removed, and everyone loved a good wedding. There was also a huge party in the training center planned for those who aged out, and from what we had heard from past trainees, it was truly spectacular. The other girls were swapping descriptions of the outfits they planned to wear, and of how they would spend their time now that we no longer needed to train for hours every day.<p>

I spared a glance at Gwylan, my smile fading. The difference between my age group and hers was striking. While mine was buzzing with excitement, huge smiles on everyone's faces, the 16 and 17 year olds were pale, grim faced and silent. Gwynlan was no exception, standing quietly in the 17 year old section, nodding at me. I ached for her, remembering standing in her exact shoes just 1 year ago. It was an unspoken agreement among everyone that our district tributes would only ever be 16 years or older, giving them the best chance of survival in the arena. Thus, if a younger boy or girl was Reaped, one of the older teens, 16 or 17, was expected to volunteer. 18 year olds, being as close as we were to freedom, were not under the same expectations. Everyone dreaded turning 16, as that meant if need be, you were expected to volunteer. This had its consequences on the younger kids that were replaced as well though. Many times, those who had been replaced by a volunteer turned right back around and volunteered the year they became eligible due to a feeling of debt. It was especially bad if the volunteer was killed in the arena. Gwylan, thank goodness, was never reaped, but I knew she was preparing herself to volunteer in case of the worst. She needn't have worried, as there were several of what we called Debtors in her age group.

I could see several such teens now standing in the volunteer pool, their faces grimmer than most. Their volunteers never came back from the Arena, and I knew many felt as though they owed them their lives. Damarion had tried to reason with them before, convincing those intent on volunteering that they would just negate the sacrifice a volunteer had made. "They didn't volunteer for you so you could go in later!" he'd tell them angrily. "They volunteered to keep you alive! You need to honor that sacrifice!" But as usual, many could not be persuaded. And so the number of dead children increased.

A glimmer attracted my attention to the stage, and I looked up to see the amphitheater lights glinting off the victor's chairs. They were made to sit up at the front for every Reaping, in all their Capitol finery. We had quite a lot as of late. Kai and Finnick were the only ones under 25, but there was a range from late twenties/early thirties all the way up to Harold, the old man who had won the Games while they were still single digits. He now sat snoring in his spot. The other victors were chatting quietly, waving every so often at the cameras with false smiles that didn't fool anyone in Four. We all knew they hated the Capitol.

As my eyes were sweeping the stage, they happened to meet with those belonging of one Finnick Odair. He looked away almost immediately, flushing. My eyes narrowed.

I never was told how Finnick ended up in the arena at 14 with no one volunteering to replace him. I was 10 at the time, and all I remember were my brothers coming back from the center after the Reaping pale and shaken. Apparently Damarion had choicey words for the entire center, and it wasn't pretty. Mitch had been 14, Ian 18, so none of them were expected to step up, but we still heard the stories about what happened to the 16 and 17 year old boys that year. It wasn't pretty. I only remember so clearly because Mitch had been so upset. He and Finnick were best friends at the time…

A sudden blow to my right shoulder caught me off guard and I whirled around. Trishe had hold of my sleeve, a huge smile on her face. "Annie, we're almost there. We're almost done!" We had been together at every reaping, every year, and now it was almost over.

"I know!" I squealed, forgetting Finnick, hugging her and laughing. The giddiness was infectious, and even when silence was forced upon us, we kept exchanging glances, mouthing excited words back and forth, relief washing over all our shoulders. When Trianga went to choose the female tribute, we were bouncing up and down on the balls of our feet, unable to keep still. Only a few more seconds, and we would be free. She cleared her throat.

"Annie Cresta!"

Fitting.


	3. Keeping Up Appearances

An unhappy murmur sweeps through the crowd as my name echoes through the amphitheater. A scream rings out, petering off into a gasping sob—Mother. I refuse to look over at my parents as I slowly make my way down the row of other 18 year old girls. They all throw me darting glances, their eyes frightened and full of pity. Some of my friends brush my arm as I walk past, but none pull me back. No one stands to volunteer in my place. So this is what Mitch must have felt like.

Although I'm not capable of rational thought, I automatically shift into the body of a tribute, the one we were drilled time after time to remember. Head high, shoulders back, a slight swagger to the walk. Boys were encouraged to flex and smirk, and in the girls' case, a few careless hair flips weren't out of place.

Time moves in a dream, standing on the stage, shaking hands with Kyle, the male tribute. Trianga holds both of our hands and raises them up in the air. "I give you your tributes!"

Halfhearted applause from the audience. I'm staring defiantly into the camera as rehearsed for so long in the training center. Everyone had always loved Reaping simulations, it meant we didn't have to go through drill after drill that day, but then it was all fun. Nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I feel now. Suddenly I feel a different pair of hands take hold of me, a gruff voice at my ear. "Let's get off the stage."

I stare. Finnick Odair is my mentor.

* * *

><p>"Annie Cresta!"<p>

No.

My hands clench into fists and I start to rise out of my chair, only to be stopped by Mags, who eyes the cameras significantly. I can't help it though. Not her. Anyone but her. I still remember the look she gave me coming off the hovercraft with Mitch's body. The look that she gives me every day.

The grumble of discontent sweeps the crowds. The Cresta's were well liked, and to have Annie chosen on her last reaping seemed like a slap in the face to a family who had already lost their only son to the Games. I could already hear Mrs. Cresta's cries, but Annie kept on walking forward resolutely, eyes fixed straight ahead.

_Someone volunteer! Why isn't anyone volunteering? _But no one does. The other Career trainees simply sit there nonchalantly, watching as Annie, who is ten times the worth of any of them, slowly mounts the stage. I want to scream. I want to run up to the stage and grab her and run until I can't run any more. This time Mags places a hand on my arm, urging me to calm down. I heed her touch, but inside I'm dying.

Snow. He had to have rigged the reaping. It wouldn't surprise me if all the strips of paper in the bowl said Annie's name.

_How? _ That one question ran continuously through my head through the rest of the ceremony, my eyes never leaving Annie's face. How did Snow find my one weakness, the one chink in my armor that he could exploit to satisfy his own agenda. I had been careful, but it seems that Snow had eyes everywhere.

* * *

><p>My parents were first. I wrapped my arms around my mother, soothing her. "I'll be fine Mother, I promise. You always said I was a fighter. Best in my class, remember?" She was crying too hard to say anything, but my father pulled us both into a hug. He didn't say anything either, but I felt him shaking with silent sobs. That almost sent me over the edge, but I forced myself to remain calm. Hysterics would only distress my family further. When Mitch left, he smiled at me, as if he was simply selected for a Capitol tour, not a tribute to the massacre that was the Hunger Games. That smile made all the difference in the world. I squeezed my mother tighter. "I love you," I choked.<p>

After my parents came in my cousin Ian, his eyes carefully shielded. He said nothing, only opened his arms and I rushed into them. I felt him sigh as he hugged me tighter.

I drew back, looking at him. "When Mitch was leaving," I said quietly. "What did you say to him?"

Ian hesitated. "I told him to watch his back," he said eventually. "And that whenever things got hard all he would have to do was think of the sea."

"I miss him," I whispered. Suddenly tears filled my eyes and I looked back at my cousin. "I'm going to die Ian."

"No. Don't." Ian said firmly, grasping my shoulders. "You're going to make it back Annie. I've never told you a lie. I can feel it. Besides," One side of his mouth quirked up into a grin. "You should make it back just in time to be one of Roseanne's bridesmaids."

I smiled weakly, his words snapping me back into perspective. Life would continue normally here, whether I came back or not. And I wasn't one to get left behind. A spark of determination rekindled in me. I would make it back. I had to make it back. With some difficulty I pulled myself together. "Remind Roseanne that I'm not going to sit next to Jack at the head table." I said as cockily as I could manage.

Ian smiled. "That's my girl."

A Peacekeeper barged in then, loudly clearing his throat. Panic trilled through me. Ian's time had run out. "No, Ian, don't go, Ian!" I scrambled for his hand as he walked away, his eyes never leaving my face, trying to calm me down.

"Annie, you'll be fine, I promise!" He reached out for me but the Peacekeeper put a firm hand on his shoulder, shoving him back.

"No Ian don't…" The door shut off my cry with a definitive slam. I was alone. Still shaking slightly, I sat down on the hard chair present in the room. Panic started to rise up again, and I was vaguely aware of my hyperventilating lungs, trying desperately to suck in as much air as possible but still feeling like I was suffocating. Training snapped in; We had been taught how to combat panic. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest and nothing else. Gradually I felt myself calming down.

"Centering yourself, good." I jumped back as I realized Damarion had entered, standing there observing me. "No signs of panic, that's very good. Now listen to me Annie. Stand up straight now." I took a deep breath and got to my feet, looking him straight in the eye. He nodded.

We stood there for several seconds in silence, just staring, when he finally broke the silence. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you. I'm not going to say that its 100% certain you will ever return to District 4, because its not. You of all people should be aware of that." He studied me some more. "The arena will be a living hell, but you're going to have to fight it. You've been through the entire training cycle, you're as prepared as any of the other Careers in there. Remember what we've taught you, follow your instincts. What is your greatest weapon in the Arena Annie?"

I swallowed, my throat abnormally dry. I patted my head. "My mind sir."

"That's right," Damarion whispered. He stood and held out his hand. I gripped it tightly. "Good luck Miss Cresta." With a slight spin on his heels, he was gone.

Next were my friends, a few family members, then I was whisked away on a train, watching as the sea slowly disappeared from view.


	4. Friend or Foe, Who's To Know?

"Alright, the game starts now."

I jump at the sudden voice, recoiling away from the entrance of a pretty middle aged woman and Finnick. Kyle jumps slightly as well, and we exchange quick glances of reassurance with each other before focusing on the two individual who will be keeping us alive during the coming horror. I already know Finnick, and though I've seen the female victor around the marketplace with her two small children, I can't remember what her name is.

The woman keeps talking. "I'm Marcela, and this is Finnick. It should be obvious by now that we're your mentors. Now, we've been where you are right now, we've encountered nearly everything that you're bound to be facing, so if you want to stay alive you will obey me and Finnick without question. Am I understood?"

Taken aback, I stare back at her. Marcela doesn't seem anything like the mother from the marketplace, her tone is pure business. After some consideration, I decide that this is a good thing. I need to be coached, not coddled, and from the determination in Marcela's eyes I see the victor in her. She knows what it takes to make it out of the arena alive, and it doesn't seem like mentor Marcela will be sugarcoating anything about the arena. Straightening up, I say, "Yes ma'am" in the clearest voice I can muster. I've decided to place my entire survival in this woman's hands after less than a minute of consideration, and I'll be damned if she thinks she can just write me off as another goner. Her eyes meet mine and I return the gaze as fiercely as possible, trying to convey, in one glance, my determination and the utter certainty that I'm not going down without a fight. Marcela gives the slightest of nods.

"We'll decide later whether we adopt a team strategy or not, but for now, Kyle, I am your mentor, and Annie, you are Finnick's responsibility."

_What?_ Appalled, I stare at Finnick, who has an expression of equal shock and dismay. "But…"

"Is there a problem, Miss Cresta?" Marcela snapped.

Narrowing my eyes, I turn back to Marcela, whose face is unexpectedly intense, her expression almost… challenging. Realization hits me. "No," I say through gritted teeth. She can't not know that Mitch was my brother. There must be some reason behind this, some hidden motive. "Of course not."

Marcela gives me a hard look, then addresses both me and Kyle. "Dinner's not for another 90 minutes, but I want you both to go to your rooms, take a shower and change clothes. Anything District 4 gets thrown out. Clothes, letters, jewelry, everything. " Her voice is as sharp as the prongs on a trident. "From now on you start thinking as a tribute. District 4 is already gone. Your focus now is on survival. Go." Marcela waves her hand and me and Kyle sit in our chairs, confused for a moment until Marcela repeats herself. "Go!" We jump out of our chairs, and after a quick glance at each other, exit the lounge car.

* * *

><p>I waited for a moment after Annie and Kyle left then rounded on Marcela. "What are you playing at?" I snarled.<p>

Marcela's face was hard. "I did what I had to Finnick."

"You had no right!"

"We're mentors. Our job is to keep our tributes alive. It's clear you're more invested in Miss Cresta's Games than the boy's." Marcela shot back. "If I was her mentor, you'd neglect your own tribute in always watching after my tribute instead of your own. I was not going to let that boy die because of you. What is your interest in the girl anyway?"

Breathing hard, I struggled to grasp Marcela's words. The woman was more insightful than I'd realized. "Nothing," I spat out finally, clenching my fists. "Nothing."

Marcela eyed me suspiciously, but chose not to pursue the topic any further. Instead, she took a completely different tack. "So tell me about them. You're a trainer, you've seen them in the Center. Do they have a chance?"

I shake my head slightly, falling back into my role as a mentor. "I've seen them both train- both at the top of their classes, decently conditioned. I say we absolutely have a fighting chance this year."

"Good," Marcela whispered, and as she leaned back against the seatback, her eyes closed. She was relieved to be actually mentoring, instead of simply preparing our tributes for slaughter, which had happened on more than one occasion. It was never easy, coaching a frightened teen while knowing all the while they wouldn't last more than a few days at the most, and I knew the mother inside Marcela hated it. I hated it as well, talking with, getting to know a tribute then watching them die a gruesome death on nationwide television while people cheered in the streets. Anger bloomed inside me, quickly stilled as I thought of Annie. I was going to bring her home somehow. I still wasn't quite sure how, but the Cresta's were not going to lose another child. That I was sure of.

* * *

><p>The long shower felt nice, though the dozens of perfumed water spouts made me a little sick. I wrinkled my nose until I found one that smelled like a sea breeze, then hesitated. Nothing from District 4, Marcela had said. Nothing that would remind me of home. With a sigh, I chose one that smelled of cucumbers instead, washing off the salt and sand that was present on the skin of everyone in District 4. When it came to choosing clothes, I hesitated. It was my mother's dress I was wearing, one of my favorites, and I was loath to part with it. It smelled of her perfume, and holding it close to my nose, I inhaled and it almost seemed like my mother was there with me. Reluctantly, I laid it aside, donning instead some stretch pants and t shirt along with sturdy boots. If I'm going to start thinking like a tribute, flowing dresses are going to have to go. Practicality, not sentiment, is what rules my choices now.<p>

Kyle is already at the table when I walked in, shoveling food into his mouth as he listened to some spiel Marcela was giving. She stopped when she noticed me standing in the doorway. "Well come on in Annie, sit down and eat. You're going to need your strength."

Smiling uneasily, I take a seat at the other end of the table and eye the food in front of me with some confusion. Platters of roast, mountains of fruit, but nothing looked that looked familiar. I was wary of eating too much of the rich Capitol food and being sick tomorrow. A hand suddenly reaches over and tugs my plate out from in front of me. "Please, allow me." Starting slightly, I look up to see Finnick piling my plate with food from several of the dishes then placing it back in front of me. "This is the stuff most similar to District 4," he explained in a quiet voice, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "It shouldn't cause you any problems for tomorrow."

Dammit, how did he know what I was thinking? "Oh…well…thanks I guess."

He inclined his head with the slightest of nods, his blue eyes gazing at me with unexpected sadness. "You're welcome Annie."

Finnick was silent for the rest of the meal as Marcela continued to coach us on what to expect when we got to the Capitol, picking at his food but never actually eating much. I could see he was watching each bite I took though, and as I was pretty hungry I made sure to finish the entire plate. Though Marcela's speech was undoubtedly filled with potentially lifesaving information, her voice began to bore me after a while and my attention started to wander. Kyle was drinking in every word that came from Marcela's mouth, and even Finnick seemed to be listening attentively, his forehead wrinkling occasionally or closing his eyes. I started to wonder what was happening at home at that point. The party in the Training Center had to have started already, but there would no doubt be a damper on it due to my absence, but not by much. My family would normally just be sitting down to eat at this point, but I'm sure tonight would be terrible for them. My mother was probably sedated in her bedroom, my father lost in the depths of some bottle. Ian would have gone home to be with them, just as he was when Mitch had been reaped, and was probably making sure my mother didn't hurt herself and that my father remained conscious. Thinking of them caused a painful twist in my heart, and I ached to go back to them.

"Annie?"

I jerked myself out of my speculations, struggling to catch up on the conversation. Something about waving. "Um yes?"

Marcela, Kyle, Trianga, and Finnick were all staring at me with slightly perplexed expressions. Shoot. I guess that wasn't the right answer after all. "Oh, well….what were you saying? I'm sorry my mind was wandering."

Marcela shook her head dismissively, waving one hand. "Happens to us all. But I do think that's enough for one night. Feel free to stay here or in the lounge car, but try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be…interesting to say the least. I'll be in my car if you need me" With a tight smile, she rose from the table, wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin, then swept out.

Uncomfortable silence filled the dining car as Finnick, Kyle and I sat and looked at each other. Suddenly I rose from my chair, my movements somewhat jerky. "Excuse me for a moment." I needed to get out of there. I needed to be alone. The panic that had threatened to overwhelm me all day now come roaring back with a vengeance, and I was not about to show weakness in front of another Tribute even if he was my District partner. If all those years of studying the Games had taught me something, it was that appearing strong was more important than actually being strong.

Kyle looked startled at my sudden movement, and even Finnick seemed somewhat taken aback. "Take your time."

I mechanically made my way out of the room and into the corridor, falling against the wall and closing my eyes, breathing deeply. _Calm down Annie!_ I scolded myself, angry that I was having a panic attack so early on. _Pull yourself together will you? _Before I could fully shut the door, Kyle's voice drifted out to where I stood.

"Don't lie to me Odair, but do you think that we actually have a chance this year?"

That's an interesting question. I stay quiet, straining to hear Finnick's answer

Finnick is silent for a moment, then comes his quiet sigh. "It's not going to be easy that's for sure. But yes, I say both of you stand a fighting chance."

"Hmmm." They're both quiet, and I'm about to reenter when Kyle speaks again. "Do you think you can get Annie to trust you again?"

_What?_ Frantically, I stifle my gasp as I press my ear closer to the door.

"What do you mean?"

Kyle lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "We all know she blames you for Mitch man. Annie's a great girl. Stubborn as hell though, and I'm not about to be killed because of that." He scoffs derisively.

I'm about to march right in there and put Kyle in his place when Finnick's replies in biting tones. "I did her a great wrong Kyle, and she's right to hate me for it." His voice turns to ice. "But if you think that's a weakness of hers you are mistaken. Annie isn't as shortsighted to let anger blind her in the arena, and more capable than you'd think. If you hope create an alliance with your district partner, you'd better start recognizing that fact or you won't last long. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Kyle mutters sullenly.

My hand drops limply to my side as I stare at the door. Swallowing hard, I reenter the room, acting as if I hadn't heard anything.

* * *

><p>The rest of the evening passes in uncomfortable conversation. Now that I know for certain that Kyle's been evaluating me through the eyes of a tribute, I'm as brash and confident as I can muster, and though I know Finnick can see right through my act, I think Kyle has bought it. Alone though, I can't seem to keep my hands from shaking. Sleep? Not a chance. I'm not meant for this competition. I have all the skills, I'm strong and fast and a survivor, but what I don't have is the backbone to kill. Mitch had it; he could steel himself to end someone's life if needed. And he did. He killed nearly half the tributes himself. I still can't get the image of him dying out of my head…<p>

"Annie?"

Crap. I'm supposed to be sleeping. Hurriedly, I shrug on a robe. "Um yes?"

Finnick edges his way into the room, looking at me with concerned eyes. "I noticed your light was still on."

Shoot. "Yea, I couldn't sleep," I said nonchalantly, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on my sheets. "I'll try to get to bed soon though." His forehead wrinkles and he looks at me disbelievingly. I almost laugh—it's so familiar, yet not, at the same time. Finn and Mitch had been best friends until Finnick won the Hunger Games, and moved into Victor's Village and became consumed with his duties to the Capitol. Up until that point, they had been inseparable.

I missed Finn. Mitch never said much about the whole situation, but I could tell he missed his buddy dearly. After he died, I was so angry. Still, now, looking at Finn, and replaying his conversation with Kyle over in my mind, I'm not sure what to think.

"Do you want to talk?"

I eye him suspiciously, then shake my head, my voice quiet. "No, thanks Finn." He stiffened at the nickname, but after a second nodded his head and stole back through the door. I sigh, looking at my bed resignedly then getting in and pulling the covers over me. Talking to Finnick had left me drained somehow.


	5. There's a Sale on Tributes Today

"No way."

Ragel frowned at me. "Excuse me?"

"No, I'm not wearing this," I said incredulously, staring in horror at the sight of me in the mirror. Nothing but a bikini, a very skimpy bikini, with a sheer sheath over the top. "I look like a tramp!"

"But a tramp that will win the crowd," Ragel pouted. "My job is to make you look the best to crowds, and this year two pieces are very in. And with the recent drought, you look like you just came off the beach, bursting with life and sunshine. That will win the crowds, dear."

I sighed, resigned at the fact that his arguments made sense. I opened my mouth to tell him so when the door suddenly flew in and in marched Kyle, Marcela, Finnick, and Trianga. With a squeak, I jumped back and toppled off the stand.

* * *

><p>"Whoa!" I jumped forward and snatched Annie from the air as she fell toward the ground. For a second, she was lying in my arms, looking shocked. I stammered something incoherent and righted her, finally managing to mutter out an apology. Annie blushed and pulled the sheath tighter around her slim frame. I stared openmouthed for a split second before I remembered my manners and quickly averted my eyes. However, that couldn't stop me from dwelling on her.<p>

Beautiful.

She looked beautiful, that was the only way to describe her. Even scantily clad as she was in a bikini, she still exuded that sense of pureness and innocence. I kept suppressing the urge to look at her again-she was clearly uncomfortable and I wasn't about to exacerbate that.

Kyle however, didn't seem to have the same qualms I did. He whistled. "Holy mother Annette, where did all this come from? This was hiding under your clothes the whole time? Damn." He circled her, nodding appraisingly. He didn't have any issues with his own costume, if it could be called that. Like me, he had been left wearing hardly anything at all.

Annie glared at him and I moved automatically to shield her from his eyes. "Your only concern is getting sponsors and assessing the other district's tributes," I growled. "We need you to focus." He heaved a huge dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, flopping into a chair. I quickly snagged one of Ragel's dressing robes and threw it to her, which she donned immediately, throwing a grateful glance in my direction.

Marcela clapped her hands. "Alright, this is it. Ragel and Arriga, thank you, you've done a fabulous job once again." The stylist twittered and simpered in that mindless way Capitol citizens do. Marcela spared them a cold smile then turned back to Annie and Kyle. "We're going for lively here. District 4, look like you just came off the luxury beaches, strong, beautiful, like you're having the times of your lives here."

Kyle nodded, his face alight, an expansive grin across his face. "Shouldn't be a problem."

I glanced at Annie. She was biting her lip uncertainly, but sighed and nodded. Her voice was low, accented. "If that will help."

Marcela nodded, satisfied. "Yes it will. It will a lot." Just then, a trumpet sounded, echoing strains of the Capitol anthem drifting out over the huge crowds above us. "That's it! Just stand and look like you're having a good time. We'll meet you on the other side. Come on Finnick." I had just enough time to nod reassuringly at Annie before Marcela dragged me to the lift.

"They'll be fine," Marcela commented, staring straight ahead. I glanced over at her, but didn't say anything. She turned her head to me. "Are you okay?"

I frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"I understand you and Mitch Cresta were close when you were younger." Marcela said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Bristling slightly, I fought to keep the anger out of my voice. Did she just now make the connection or what? "That's right."

"You must have spent a lot of time over at the Cresta's then, known Annie as a little girl."

"What are you saying Marcela?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "What are you trying to imply?"

Her violet eyes were soft, troubled. "It's up to Annie to survive in the arena. You can try to help all you can, but in the end it's up to the tributes themselves to survive. Attachment to a tribute…well it's not good Finnick."

My hands clenched. "I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"We're District mentors. Our job is to try to bring back our tributes. Even if that means sacrificing the other." She paused to let her words sink in.

She meant was I strong enough to leave Annie for dead if it seemed that Kyle had a better chance of surviving. My skin crawled just thinking of it, but I kept up my placid poker face. "I understand your worry Marcela but I will treat Annie as I have all the other tributes. "

The lift door opened and after throwing me a doubtful glance, Marcela walked out into the bright lights and flashes of the Capitol. With a deep breath, I followed her.

* * *

><p>"Alright now, alright, District 4, you're over here, step lively now!"<p>

Shaking my head slightly, I followed Kyle over to our chariot, an unsmiling Avox helping me into the carriage. Kyle is practically bouncing with excitement, but all I can do is stare blearily at him. The day had started obscenely early, and I had been poked, prodded, and worked over for what felt like an eternity. It didn't help that the squeals of my prep team and stylist screwed right into the middle of my migraine. It was all I could do stand up straight now. All I wanted to do was sleep, but with a groan I remembered what Marcela had said. The Parade was the best time to secure sponsors, so I'd have to act disgustingly sweet and happy like I wanted to be here. Like Kyle was acting now actually.

"Stop." I growled, pushing him away from my ear where he had been shouting something moments before. Fine, I would sell myself out to the sponsors in the crowd. It didn't mean I had to extend the same courtesy to Kyle.

* * *

><p>I clutched the armrests. District Four was next.<p>

A roar went up as they emerged, but it was still a few seconds until the chariot was visible where I was sitting.

"Yes!" Marcela squeezed my hand, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd. I could hardly believe my eyes. Kyle and Annie looked completely at ease, laughing and waving to the crowd. They glowed. As I watched, Kyle suddenly picked Annie up and whirled her around. Anger bloomed in my stomach, and for a split second I saw shock cross Annie's face, but she quickly composed herself and let out a shout of laughter. She pushed playfully away from Kyle and nimbly climbed up on the chariot ledge, waving and throwing kisses out into the crowd. The crowd screamed. They loved her.

Johanna was clapping next to me. "Hmmm. That Annie of yours," She snorted. "Snow's going to make a ton off of her if she wins this thing."

My stomach dropped as I realized the horror of what Johanna was saying. "Don't even say that," I muttered through clenched teeth. "Just don't."

She shrugged and let out a bark of harsh laughter. "If you say so."

I sat through the rest of the parade in a daze, pondering the horrific scene Johanna had planted in my head. Never. Never ever never. The thought of Annie in the same situation I was in along with Johanna, Kepler, and countless others, made me sick to my stomach. If she won this thing, I'd do anything to keep her from suffering the same fate.

* * *

><p>"Back off Kyle," I muttered, still waving cheerily to the crowd.<p>

He ignored me, wrapping one arm around my waist. "C'mon Annie! They love it! You want more of this?" He shouted out at the crowd.

Twisting out of his grip, I slapped him across the face and pretended to scold him, being overly dramatic. The Capitol laughed, missing out on the pained cry Kyle let out. However, he quickly fell back in to winning over the crowd, dropping to his knees and holding up both hands, acting like he was begging for my forgiveness. "Fuck Annie, what the hell is wrong with you?" he murmured angrily.

I smiled sweetly down at him then held my hands up to the Capitol, as if I was asking them what I should do. "Stop it," I whispered viciously, then hauled him up and we were whirling around in an impromptu jig before breaking apart and waving out at the crowd again.

* * *

><p>"You were absolutely fabulous!" Trianga twittered, rushing up to us. Finnick and Marcela weren't far behind. "You were the talk of the show! Oh, my poor heart." Our hostess fanned at herself with a garish green feather fan, sending waves of her nauseating perfume over us. I coughed and Kyle pulled a face, his tongue lolling out his mouth, eyes crossed. I couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter.<p>

"Excellent job you two!" Marcela exclaimed walking up to us, grinning. Finnick nodded and gave a weak smile as well, though his eyes were troubled. I eyed him questioningly, but just looked away. "A good first impression is crucial, and you guys were easily the focus of the parade. We need to keep up this image throughout the entire thing. Smile, wave, act gracious- securing sponsors starts now and you two need to be aware of that."

Marcela is all business now, which I appreciate. I'm sick of being overwhelmed by everything here, being constantly taken by surprise, always two steps behind. Finally some directions, a plan.

Nodding, I stepped forward. "Anything else we need to watch for?"

Marcela gazed around for a moment, fists on hips, then fixed her violet eyes on us. "Don't forget that most of the battle is up here." She tapped her head, then motioned for us to move toward the elevators. The Tribute Parade was over.


	6. What Really Happened

**As always the lovely Suzanne Collins owns everything**

* * *

><p>As long as I was a tribute and Finnick was my mentor, we needed at least a cordial relationship, so in the name of survival, I managed to block out the ugly memories and focus on what he was now- my lifeline. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into our old ways. Apparently it wasn't easy to totally forget a person, who they were, their quirks, their expressions. As long as our conversations remained clinical, focused on the present, not the past, interactions were remarkably pleasant. In fact, to my utmost and incredible shame, I found him to be almost…charming.<p>

Ugh.

All it took to dispel that notion was a quick revisit to the past, and all my animosity returned with a vengeance. Even before Finnick had won his Games, we had been prone to bicker. We were both intelligent and quick witted though hampered by our extreme stubbornness. I was never one to back down in an argument, and neither was he, often leading to standoffs over the most trivial of matters. Years ago our squabbles didn't matter. We'd storm off, cool down, and then reconcile, oftentimes all within the span of an afternoon. Here though, minutes were precious, and each moment spent glaring at each other was a moment that could have been used to coach me on the Games.

We had been at it all day, from light hand to hand sparring to reflex drills to hours upon hours of listening to Finnick talk about strategy and tactics, oftentimes with visual aids. I had wanted to go to the Training Center with Kyle, but Finnick insisted on one on one coaching for today. Both of us were exhausted and cross. I was desperate for the day to be over with. I was fed up with the way Finnick kept pinning me in hand to hand drills, how he yelled when I didn't react fast enough in the reflex drills, how his voice dragged on and on, barking at me to pay attention. My patience had long since dried out, and I knew his had too.

"Could you at least pretend to pay attention?"

His irritable voice interrupted my daydream about the water rushing around my legs, and it took a moment to remember where I was. "If you weren't boring me half to death maybe I would," I replied snidely. "Your presentations suck."

"Well excuse me for trying to help you survive in the arena! Maybe I shouldn't bother!"

"Go ahead. I'd much rather a quick bloodbath death rather than a slow one from your puffed up pontificating. Now if you'll excuse me..."

I made to walk dramatically from the room but he blocked my way. "Sit down," he growled through gritted teeth, pointing back at my seat. "We're not done yet." I considered my chances at simply ducking around him and locking myself in my room before he caught me, but the odds were frightfully slim. Scowling at him, I flopped back down into my seat.

"I mean, I'm not going to last long anyway, so what's the point?" I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms. I was acting like a child, a spoiled, ungrateful child, but at this point I couldn't quite care enough to act otherwise. "You'd be better off letting me get some sleep."

"Annie, I swear I…" Finnick broke off, striding around with his hands running through his hair, muttering to himself. I'd never seen him so agitated. I jumped as he suddenly slammed his fists into the wall, shouting at me. "Dammit Annie, stop it! Stop it alright! Why do you keep saying crap like that?"

His accusatory tone made my own temper flare. "Because guess what Finnick?" I yelled. "Last time I bet on someone in the Games, it. Didn't. Happen! I'm not going to let myself hope for something impossible! I'm not quite as arrogant as you seem to have been in your Games…"

"What?" he howled striding toward me, his face distorted with anger. I flinched as he grabbed my arms, cringing away from him. "This isn't about me Annie, I'm trying to keep you alive, dammit! Do you want to die? What would Mitch think!"

The last statement made me see red. How dare he bring Mitch into this?

I wrenched my arms free, then, with all the force I could muster, slammed my fist into his jaw. With a shocked expression, his head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. "You have no right! No right to say that!" I screamed. Finnick stumbled back a step, arms instinctively shielding his face from any further blows I might have wanted to deal out. I lashed out with my other fist, but he dodged it.

"I will if it makes you stop saying you're going to die!" Finnick yelled. "I'm trying to keep you alive as best I can, but you won't let me!"

"Who are you kidding, Finnick, you don't care! Stop pretending you do and this will all go so much smoother!"

"What are you talking about?" He roared, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and frustration. "What do you mean I don't care? Annie, what…"

"Yeah? Well how about the fact that you just sat back and watched my brother die! He was your best friend!"

"Are you saying I didn't care about Mitch?" he said incredulously, voice shooting up 3 octaves. "It's not like I could go into the arena with him, Annie, what was I supposed to do?"

Do? What was he supposed to do? My teeth clench and suddenly there's moisture in my eyes. "You just abandoned him!" I screamed at Finnick, reaching around for the closest thing to me and hurling it at him. He ducked to the side, the vase shattering against the wall. "He was your best friend! Why didn't you care? If you had just done your job then maybe…" Finnick pulled me into a hug. At first I shrieked and shouted and beat my fists against him but I lost all strength. I was crying like a baby, blubbering all over myself, generally falling to pieces.

"Annie," Finnick's voice was low and shaky, but he grasped my shoulders. "Annie, I tried. Mitch was a fighter. The best. He kept on fighting up until the very end and..."

His words made me sick to my stomach and pushed him away, my face reddening again. "Liar!" I shouted, raging. "I was there Finn; I was in that hovercraft and had to watch as he bled to death while that girl just sat there! She could've have killed him instantly Finn, she made him suffer. And I couldn't do anything about it I was just sitting there and…" I burst into tears once more, and inexplicably ran back into his arms. Finnick slowly slid down the wall taking me with him, my face buried in his shirt, crying.

Finally the tears quieted. Finnick reached over and picked up a towel lying not far from where we sat, gently wiping my face clean of tears and snot. I stared at Finnick's stricken face, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a quivering expression.

"I can't do this Finn," I admitted quietly, defeat in my voice. "If he couldn't make it through then…I want him here." Fresh tears sprang to my eyes and I let them run unchecked. "Every time I picture the arena, all I see is him and that girl…" I couldn't go on, keeling over once more, my world utterly hopeless.

* * *

><p><em>I can feel the thrum of the engines through the floor as the hover car rockets through the airspace in the arena, but that's not what's causing me to tremble. The Gamemakers said that it would all be over today. He could come home. Mitch could finally escape from this awful place of death and suffering. <em>

_ The Capitol staff is busy prepping a medical ward for when he finally kills the last remaining tribute. And he will kill her. She won't last long against him now that he's begun to hunt her, none of them have, but I can see he's still in a lot of pain from that infection on his leg let alone hungry. I don't understand why Finnick hasn't sent him any medicine or aid at all the entire Game. Yes, food is exorbitantly priced and so is any kind of healing balm, but Mitch is practically guaranteed to win at this point. Sponsors are absolutely pouring in, but they watch as their money goes toward nothing. Even Kai worries but she can't do anything. Only the tribute's specific mentor can send in a gift, which means even though Kai is from District 4, only Finnick has the power to help Mitch. That doesn't help my brother though. I wince every time the camera focuses in on the injury- it's clear he's suffering. _

_ From across the landing bay the pale looking woman guardedly eyes me. She's the mother of the one girl still left in the arena, the other family member that's been allowed on the collection hovercraft in the off chance her daughter is the victor. I do my best to ignore her- Mitch is still out there, and I can't worry about anything else now. Nothing is certain until my brother is safely aboard. _

_ Klaxons go off suddenly. He's found her! Scrambling to my feet, I lunge at the nearest viewing screen even as Mitch strikes the first blow against the District 1 girl. She's ready for it though, and blocks his mace at the last second. Snarling at him, she sprang at him but he ducked, the two closing once more. It seems to last forever, this final desperate duel when suddenly there comes a bloodcurdling roar. Both turn toward the woods, toward each other, and in a split second both sprint into the woods._

_ Their huge eyes suggest something horrifying. And once we all can see it, it truly is. Reptilian in looks, it has impossibly sharp claws and a huge, gaping mouth, and from the way both their hands are covering their mouths and noses, gagging, it must be letting off a horrific odor. Mitch is slightly faster and soon outstrips the girl, but she seals her fate when her foot catches on an exposed tree root, sending her crashing into the ground. Mitch keeps running for a minute, then looks back._

_ "Not like this! Please, no no no!" The District 1 girl is screaming and crying, calling out for her mother even as her sword clanks against her back. Mitch grimaces, and it's like I can read his mind._

_ "No don't do it Mitch let it get her," I mutter under my breath, eyes glued to the screen. I can hear the girl's mother pleading and crying, but I'm too busy willing Mitch to leave her. "Don't do it Mitch!"_

_ Of course, like the stubborn fool he is he turns back to where District 1 lies crying in fear, and I see his face tighten. With one smooth movement, he brings his bow to bear and nocks his last arrow, sighting on the charging mutt and lets fly. The mutt squeals as the arrow embeds itself deep in its eye socket and crashes to the ground, dead._

_ A dark scowl on his face, Mitch stalks back over to the sobbing girl, knife held out at the ready. "I'll make it quick I promise."_

_ The girl sniffles pathetically as Mitch's hand descends for a clean kill. Suddenly she rolls to her feet, pulling her own knife from some hidden pocket and viciously slices it across Mitch's face. Blood is immediate and copious, splashing on both their shirts in thick quantities. Mitch lets out a yell of shock and pain, backpedaling furiously while trying to clear his vision. It's too late though. With another swipe of her knife, he's on the ground writhing in agony, the hilt protruding from his chest, blood coming in spurts. _

_ The girl lets loose a pealing shout of laughter, and it's in that moment that everyone realizes something is terribly wrong. Her eyes are feral, no longer human, and it's her deranged laughter that alerts everyone to the fact that she's gone insane. Mitch's eyes widen in instinctual fear._

_ "No…," He gasps, one hand holding his chest in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. "Don't…"_

_ To everyone's horror she just continues to laugh manically, stabbing and stabbing. Parachutes drift down next to her but she ignores them and keeps attacking my helpless brother until the ground is soaked with his blood. I'm screaming and screaming, and they have to hold me back. The girl's mother is shouting as well, pleading for her daughter to stop, to end my brother's suffering, to end the Games, but of course she doesn't hear. Kai is yelling through my earpiece._

_ "They're trying to make her stop Annie, her mentors are trying to send her messages but she won't listen to them!"_

_ Everything is complete chaos in the hovercraft, people running every which way and shouting. All I can see is my brother's face as I continue to yell. _

_ Mitch takes a shuddering breath through paper white lips and looks up at the sky. Tears cut through the blood splatters on his cheeks, but other than that he's too weak to move. It's almost as if he sees me in the hover car though, my eyes wide with panic and horror, because he raises one of his hands a few inches, shaking with effort. His mouth forms his last words, too low for the cameras to hear him but to me it's clear as day. "I tried." His hand slowly drops to the ground and blood drips into his unseeing eyes. _

_ The boom of the cannon is lost in my screaming. _

_ Back in the Mentor's lounge I'm greeted by a teary Kai, who embraces me even as the other mentors shoot me curious glances. I'm in shock, numb. I can't do much more than go through the motions of things, still reeling from Mitch's death. Still, something on District 4's mentor station catches my eye and I disengage from Kai, walking over to examine it more closely._

_ I touch the screen in utter confusion. "It says here Mitch had thousands of dollars' worth of sponsor money. Why didn't you send him medicine, a note, something?"_

_ Kai opens her mouth to answer but is cut off by a heavyset man reeking of alcohol. He leans on her shoulder, clearly drunk. "Oh are you looking for Finnick? I left him at the bars 3 hours ago the sly dog. Found himself a pretty young Capitol thing."_

_ I don't stick around to hear Kai scold the man, going around to the other stations asking where Finnick is. It's a good thing Mitch and I don't look too similar so I get the real story. They all say the same, "Finnick? Oh, he's been gone most of the time. I heard he was at so and so's party. Shame about his tribute though, the boy had a good chance of winning if Finnick had been around to send him parachutes."_

_ As if on cue the man himself bursts through the door, clothing unkempt, eyes bleary. We lock gazes._

_ Finnick._

_ Finnick had done this. He could have sent Mitch medicine to heal his leg. Could have sent him food when he nearly died from starvation. Could have stopped him from saving District 1 from the mutt. _

_Instead of watching over my brother in the arena he was out drinking. Out partying. Out enjoying the company of Capitol women instead of attending to his duties as mentor. _

_ Finnick had abandoned Mitch in favor of the Capitol._

_ His best friend. My brother!_

"_No!" With an inhuman shout I lunge at him. Several hands grab me and pin me to the ground but I'm screaming and screaming until I feel a stab on my arm and everything goes black._

__I came to screaming.

That was how it happened. That is what really went down.


	7. Let's Form Teams

**As always, the lovely Suzanne Collins owns everything!**

* * *

><p>"Hey, you all right?<p>

Jerking myself awake, I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand, my voice still thick with sleep. "Just a bit tired."

"Well okay," Kyle looked bemused but went back to his bacon and potatoes without pressing the issue. I sighed and went back to playing with my oatmeal without actually eating any of it. My screaming last night brought Finnick to my room to check on me, but I had sent him running with the curses, threats, and other profanities that had been spewing from my mouth. I sort of regretted it afterward and just tossed and turned until morning. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in my spoon, dark circles ringing my eyes. No wonder Kyle had eyed me with such curiosity when I stumbled to my seat for breakfast- I was a real mess.

The only sounds in our apartment was that of Kyle munching his food down when the door banged open. I moaned slightly and Kyle shot me a grin, his cheeks swollen with food- didn't Trianga ever learn to open a door gently?

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" Trianga twittered, crossing the room on impossibly clicky heels. "And what a morning to start the day!"

What a morning indeed. Finnick and Marcela entered after her, their steps brisk and purposeful. Both Finnick and I turned red and looked away from each other, the memories from last night pulsating through our minds. Marcela either didn't notice or didn't comment, clapping her hands together in a way that was becoming habitual. "Okay guys, today's the second day in the Training Center. Kyle you've already been down there, show Annie around. Try to make alliances with One and Two, that's what we usually try to do."

"Already two steps ahead of you Marcela, they've invited me to train with them today," Kyle said smugly. "They want to meet Annie as well. They're real friendly Annie, you'll like Irmyra and Mervin," He said to me encouragingly. "They're from District 1."

"Mmmm." Friendly or not, I wouldn't be trusting anyone once we're all in the arena. Careers have a real knack for switching between the likeable tribute and the bloodthirsty killer. I should know, I'm one of them.

"Darmth and Freesia though…" Kyle turned back to Marcela and Finnick. "They're…intense."

Finnick nodded. "District 2 has a reputation for brutality. Make the alliance anyway; you want them on your side, at least initially. They'll be a big help at the bloodbath."

Kyle nodded. "Gotcha. Anything else?"

"Tell me more about the Careers."

It surprised me, the easy interaction between Kyle and Finnick. I had sensed some tension there beforehand, but they seemed to be on good terms now, Kyle earnestly explaining each of the Career's strengths, Finnick frowning in concentration and offering suggestions. It was good advice he was giving, and it seemed Kyle had buried any past animosity when he realized Finnick was a veritable gold mine of information about strategy.

"Well let's go then, come on Annie."

I started for the second time that morning, shaking off my thoughts. It seems everyone was ready to leave, Kyle holding his hand out expectantly, Marcela and Finnick waiting for us by the door. "Oh, yea, right." I hastily gulped down some of my untouched oatmeal then seized Kyle's outstretched hand. He pulled me out of my seat and whisked me down the hall, and before I knew it all five of us were crowded into the opulent elevator, heading down to the Training Center in the basement.

Kyle was talking with Marcela, and I crossed my arms, holding my forearms tightly. Nervousness swept through me- it was the first time I would be seeing the faces of the others, many of whom I knew were doomed to die on the first day. I was also under pressure to impress my fellow Careers. They would tolerate me because of Kyle, but I knew as soon as the killing started within the alliance I would be targeted if I appeared weak. Therefore, I had to blow them away with their first impression of me.

The elevator suddenly slowed to a stop on the first floor, and the sudden breath of warm air across my neck raised goose bumps- I hadn't realized Finnick had come up behind me in the enclosed space. "Relax Annie," he whispered. "Loosen your shoulders some, arms free…there you go."

I did as he said, dropping my shoulders some and letting my hands go free. I didn't understand why until the doors slid open and another group of five walked on- District 1 tributes and their mentors. In that instant I realized what Finnick had done. Kyle was in the midst of joking with Marcela and Finnick had taken up a position by my shoulder in all his intimidating glory. My face was already tense but my body was loose, suggesting confidence, and I realized we put up a pretty powerful front judging from the way District 1 had newfound sparks of respect in their eyes.

I didn't have to look to know Finnick was pulling all his charm out, and suddenly I felt his hand bracingly on my lower back as the female mentor haughtily turned her gaze on us. "Well hello there Cash. You're looking ravishing, as usual." The District 1 female mentor, a statuesque blonde with impossibly clear skin glared at him disparagingly before turning to the male mentor. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you prefer the full version don't you? Cashmere." He drew out her name in a ridiculous Capitol accent and he winked at me when her face darkened in rage.

"Got a good pair this year I see Finnick," The male mentor said abruptly, no doubt trying to prevent Finnick from needling the woman any more than he already had. It must be a rivalry they already had.

"Oh hey Stu," Finnick dropped the Capitol imitation and greeted him warmly, shaking his hand as I shook my head slightly. Males.

Kyle exchanged brief nods with the District 1 tributes when they boarded the elevator and continued his conversation with Marcela. After sparing a curious glance for me, they fell back into their own conversation. I stood awkwardly alone, but Finn's hand kept tracing circles on my lower back as he talked with Stu or whatever his name was. I didn't think Finn realized what he was doing, but for some reason I let it go. Feeling his hand against me felt…comforting for some reason. Thus we appeared as the elevator doors slid open in the basement.

Several kids paled at the sight of us, and I couldn't understand why until I remembered we were the Careers. We were the terrifying ones, the ones the other District mentors warned their tributes about. It disturbed me though, the level of fear in some of the tribute's eyes. I hadn't realized what we must seem like on the outside, especially to the Districts that didn't, or couldn't, train their tributes. To us, we were normal, nothing especially significant about us. To them, we were trained killers.

I froze until Finn gave me a gentle push and Kyle seized my hand and dragged me over to where a knot of smug looking tributes lounged. One of them, a particularly brutish looking boy, crossed his arms, sizing me up. He raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you? Or are you as thick as you look?" I shot back immediately. Oh I knew his type all right, and just how to handle him. This was Finn before he won his games, when Mitch first introduced us. The others simply stared at me, some with utter shock in their eyes but I didn't back down. I felt Kyle's quiet chuckle from behind me.

The brutish tribute grinned at me. "You must be Annie then. I'm Darmth, and this is Fresia," He jerked his thumb back, indicating a tall redhead with a smirk on her face. "We're from District 2."

"Charmed," I said dryly. "And the rest of you are?"

This time the District 1 boy stepped in, a scowl on his face. "Mervin," he said, his voice flat. I didn't realize how tall he was. "Didn't get a chance to introduce myself on the way down. This here's Irmyra" he said, motioning toward his District partner. She grinned at me in stark contrast to her District partner, her features unexpectedly innocent with luminous blue eyes under wavy blonde hair. "Jaulon, District 5," A solidly built boy with black hair nodded at me. "Slome, District 7," He pointed to a curly haired wisp of a girl with gold eyes. "Hollen, District 8, and Dale, District 10." A brown haired girl and a pale boy gazed at me curiously.

"Is this it then?" Kyle asked abruptly. "I don't recall the Career group ever being so big before."

He sounded slightly hostile and I could instantly see why. Usually the group was small, select, and for good reason too. The smaller the Careers were, the larger the other pool of tributes was and the more to kill before the inevitable backstabbing began. The bigger the Career the group, the sooner it would be to disband and the vicious Career on Career duels that would follow. In a show of solidarity, I crossed my arms, scowling at those not from One or Two.

To their credit, not one flinched or looked away. Truth be told, most looked slightly bored. "We've made some…new arrangements since yesterday." Mervin replied, a slight edge of challenge to his voice. "I hope that's all right with you."

Kyle glanced at Mervin, then shrugged. "Whatever you say man," he muttered, still clearly unhappy with the arrangement but not willing to cause a big stink over the issue. "Come on Annie, I'll show you around."

"No, you go ahead, I'll show Annie everything," Irmyra said brightly, hooking onto my arm. "Kyle's told me you're good with knives."

Kyle was hovering next to us, uncertain as to exactly what I wanted when I nodded slightly at him. Irmyra seemed friendly enough, or at least eager to make some kind of connection, and I figured I should take the hand of friendship while it was being offered. "Okay then. I'll see you ladies at lunch then," He jogged over to where Jaulon and Darmth were suiting up for hand to hand sparring. Behind us the mentors were chatting, and I stole a look back. I must have showed some sort of alarm because Finnick gave the slightest of nods, jerking his head toward the stations. Exhaling, I turned back to Irmyra.

"So what's first on the tour?"

Irmyra steered me around the Training Center, motioning toward the instructors and explaining each one. Except for the stations on camouflage or wilderness survival, or anything not related to combat, I had seen everything in the Training Center back home. She was eager to talk though, and we soon found ourselves at the knife throwing station getting in some target practice. Though her strength was in swords and not knives, she still hit the dummy every time.

"So, you got a boyfriend back home?" She asked coyly, taking careful aim with her knife.

I flushed slightly, Finnick's face rising in my mind for some reason but I struggled to ignore it and whizzed another knife toward my dummy. "N..no, why?"

"Yea me neither. A bit sad don't you think? Maybe it's for the best though, that would suck, can you imagine if both you and your boyfriend were in the Games? Good night!"

I had to agree with her, that would suck.

"Still, at least now I can go after that juicy hunk of manflesh, yes ma'am" Irmyra looked unashamedly toward where Jaulon stood wiping the perspiration off his forehead, his sandy hair sticking up in sweat formed spikes. "Mmm boy. I swear, all the male tributes this year are total hotties."

I glanced over at the District 5 tribute, giving him the standard once over. Eh. He was alright. "It's a plot to distract all us females, give the males a fighting chance," I joked. The victors of the last few Games had all been females, leading to calls of conspiracy among the male population.

Irmyra considered it for a moment, then shook her head vigorously. "Nahh. Though it's seriously starting to look that way. I mean come on, Mervin's a tribute!"

"Mervin?"

"My district partner." she reminded me. "If he wasn't like my brother I'd totally be after him though. He's gorgeous!"

I snuck a look over to where Mervin was working with an agility instructor. Tall, dark haired, body solidly lean muscle- I had to say he was a looker. Not Finn-level magnificence by any means, but certainly impressive. While I was watching, he leaped four feet in the air and hooked onto a climbing net, rapidly ascending toward the top where he grabbed another set of ropes, swung from rope to rope like they were vines and landed in a crouch on a platform one the opposite side of the gym. He brushed off his hands, and his dark eyes suddenly turned toward mine.

I quickly averted my eyes. "He's alright," I said dismissively, even as my cheeks flamed up. Even now in girl talk, I couldn't be sure Irmyra wasn't working me over for some strategy and to announce preference for her district partner... "After all, Finnick Odair is my mentor." I added, almost as an afterthought. Yes, blame everything on Finn, I thought wryly.

Irmyra gasped, train of thought totally gone. "Oh my gosh, you are so lucky, I got on that elevator and just about died when…"

I sighed in relief as she prattled on about Finn, studiously ignoring the gaze from across the room I could feel burning a hole in my back. I'd have to talk to Finnick about District One. As frustrated as I was with him, it seemed like he'd be the person to go to for this kind of situation.

"They treat you okay?" Kyle pulled me aside as we walked toward where lunch as being served, talking quietly in my ear. "Didn't give you any problems?" It seems that I had mistaken Kyle. He may be the cockiest bastard to ever come from District 4, but he seemed to be genuinely concerned about me.

"No, everything was fine," I murmured back, touched by his concern. "You're right though, District 2 is slightly…intimidating" After I finished target practice with Irmyra, I wandered over to where Darmth and Fresia were throwing spears. Spears were another one of my strongpoints, courtesy of a childhood spent in District 4, and though the District 2 tributes welcomed me enthusiastically enough, they made me uncomfortable. They were unexpectedly vicious, cracking cruel jokes about many of the smaller tributes from the poorer districts and freely admitting their thirst for blood.

"Yeah, Mervin's already talked to me about them," Kyle's voice was so low I could hardly hear him. "He's working out some way to deal with them, but in the meantime he wants us to talk more with the non-Careers, get to know them some."

"You agree with that?"

"I do." This surprised me. I thought Kyle would be skeptical about taking orders from another tribute, but he seemed grimly supportive. "He knows more about District 2 than we do, and you know they're cooking something up."

I seized his hand. "Fine, let's eat then." Dragging him along behind me, I plunked us down at a table with Hollen, Jaulon, and Dale, who looked up alarmed but welcomed us into their midst. We had a surprisingly pleasant lunch, the five of us. In addition to being, as Irmyra claimed, "studly," Jaulon was also funny, his self-deprecating humor unexpectedly sweet. Hollen was my age and talked freely of her older siblings back home and the plans she had with them, her light brown hair swishing as she talked animatedly. Dale was smaller and younger, only 15 or so which surprised me. He still had a sweet baby face and I spent almost the entire time I was talking to him trying to ascertain how exactly he had managed an invitation to join the Career pack. I made a mental note to ask Irmyra about it later.

Even Kyle managed to warm up to them somewhat. I could tell he really liked Jaulon, the two of them soon enough more or less bros after a morning of training then talking at lunch. Hollen and I were still wary of one another, but nobody had a problem with Dale. He may have been small, but he was extremely likeable.

"All right lunch is over! Back to training!" Atala yelled from the end of the room.

Groaning good naturedly, we got up, stretching out our tight muscles as we wandered back to the Training Center. I made to move toward the weapons station again but I felt a hand on my arm, courtesy, this time, of Slome. "Want to try some of the survival stations with me?" she asked, her voice friendly. "I already know you can handle a weapon."

Glancing at Kyle to see he was already being led away toward the obstacle course by a chattering Irmyra, I turned back to Slome. "Sure," I replied, relenting. "Why not?"

It turned out Slome was something of a prodigy with knives as she talked of nothing else as we swirled together paint for camouflage, discerned poisonous plants from edible ones, and set traps. Apparently in her home District she worked in the quality division, where they scraped any imperfections off of the yards and yards of lumber District 7 produced using blades of varying lengths and thicknesses. She knew everything about them and was thrilled when I could respond intelligently to some of her musing, having myself some experience with knives. We stayed together the entire afternoon, and when the gong rang signaling the end of the day, when she squeezed my hand, I squeezed back.

It seems that everyone in the Career group managed to reach the elevator banks at the same time, and we squeezed into one car. "Sorry, full," Kyle said gruffly, closing the door on one particularly terrified looking little girl. "What?" he whispered in response to my frown. "Let her get on with these people here?"

I could see his point. The girl would be eaten alive by the arrogance in this car, and there was also the issue that there truly was no more space. We were packed pretty tight in the car, and I found myself squished up against none other than Mervin. My face was literally mashed up against his muscular shoulder, and when I futilely tried to create some breathing room between us, he just looked down at me and gave a half smirk. Blushing, I managed to turn around though I could still feel his heartbeat against my back and the soft puff of air from his breath against my ear.

I was concentrating so hard on not concentrating on Mervin I didn't even realize when the elevator stopped at his floor. "Excuse me," he murmured, his voice unexpectedly sensual.

"Ah..oops sorry." I managed to stutter, scrambling to move out of his way. A small smile graced his lips as he wound he way out of the crowded elevator, each step lithe and graceful and I cursed quietly under my breath. "Way to look like an idiot Annie."

"See you all tomorrow!" Irymra chirped, waving as she followed Mervin into their apartment as the doors closed.

Now that two people had been removed from the car there was a sense of relief as we all gained a little more space. Kyle found his way back to me, and he used his bulk to create a private space just for us. "Everything cool?"

"Yes," I answered, my mind still fixed on the mysterious Mervin from District 1. "Yes, everything's fine."


	8. My Hours are Numbered

**Disclaimer: Own Nothing!**

**FINALLY an update. Sorry y'all, I've been super busy. I'll be better I promise.**

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><p>"Relax Annie, you look great!"<p>

"Thanks Kyle." He grinned at me before turning and chatting up Slome. Sighing, I ran a hand over my dress trying to stay calm and collected. This was it, the interviews. The last night of relative peace before the Games started. I could already hear the dull roar of the crowds slowly filling the amphitheatre, and the noise did nothing to calm my queasy stomach. In fact, I felt like I was going to be sick. So much was riding on these 300 seconds we were with Caesar, lifesavers like sponsors and the favor of the crowds. This was so much worse than the Parade. I didn't have to speak during the Parade, but now everything would depend on my words.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, running through my coaching session with Finnick in my mind. We had decided on "kind and innocent" for me, which suited me. I don't think I could have pulled off "sultry" or "sexy" or whatever other angle my stylist had obviously been hoping for. Finnick had sent Ragel running back to his sketchpad when the Capitol bumpkin had tried to argue.

I smiled at the memory- seeing two men argue over a dress was a sight to see. It was a welcome break from my reality.

Someone suddenly seized my arm. "Let's go Annie, we're on!"

Gritting my teeth, I plaster a dazzling smile across my face and walk into the lights.

* * *

><p><em>Finnick<em>

We're settling into our seats, waving at old friends and doing our best to look nonchalant when Marcela turns to me. "You need to back off Finnick." she says, her voice grim.

"Don't know what you're talking about Marcela" I answer casually, leaning back and waving at a pack of twittering Capitol women, who swoon and just about fall all over themselves with my gesture.

"I'm talking about Miss Cresta Finnick."

Glaring at her, I sit up straight, regarding the older woman coolly. "What about her?"

Marcela shakes her head slightly. "I've told you Finnick, attachment to a tribute is not healthy. It'll destroy you." She pauses for a second, smiling and waving back at an affluent Capitol citizen before returning her eyes to me, the cheery smile fading. "Don't think I haven't noticed how late you've been working on sponsors for Miss Cresta. I'll say it again. You're too involved."

Too involved? "What am I supposed to do Marcela, sit back and just loll around the Capitol and not work on getting sponsors for Annie?" I responded, my voice brittle. "After how she took Mitch's Games?"

Her face softening, Marcela leaned forward. "No of course not but Finnick," she pauses, gazing at me and I see the mother in her come out. "I don't believe you've slept for more than 6 hours since we arrived here. Yes, you have responsibilities as a mentor but you need to be taking care of yourself as well. And that means sleeping and eating right, as well as taking breaks at times. Clear your head some."

I shake my head savagely. "I'm fine Marcela. You don't need to worry about me, I can take care of myself."

"You're killing yourself over this girl and-"

"Marcela, Annie is like a little sister to me. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she comes home alive and nothing you say will stop me. Lay off okay?"

The soaring of the opening music robs Marcela of any chance at responding, but she gives my hand a quick squeeze before sitting down beside me. Grumbling, I rub my forehead trying to alleviate the sudden migraine. I was exhausted, that was true. I had been out at the many Capitol parties last night as well as the night before, talking up potential sponsors for Annie and had more to go to tonight. Sleep was more of an afterthought than a necessity lately, but I didn't have any other options. The Games were due to begin tomorrow, and although there could be no official sponsoring until they actually began, I wanted to start Annie off with several guaranteed sponsors.

It's not like Annie was hard to sell. As far as tributes went, she was probably one of the most sponsor-able in the Games. Eighteen years old, a Career, a solid background in weapons and survival. The 10 she scored in training almost made it a cakewalk. Still, it bothered me that most of the Capitol citizens were more interested in Annie's looks rather than her obvious skill. In most conversations I had with potential sponsors, the first thing they commented on was how beautiful she was.

"Oh, Annie Cresta is the one with the long brown hair and green eyes! So gorgeous! And you say that she hasn't gone through any alterations at all!"

Though it killed me to do it, I made Annie's looks her main selling point. At least for now. When the Games actually started, they would actually start focusing on the strength of the tributes rather than their sex appeal. I snorted as the tributes started filing in. Sex appeal indeed. Baring as much skin in front of the crowd seems to be a common theme tonight. Most of the female tributes were clothed in scraps of cloth that had little business being called dresses, and I frowned at the possibility that Annie could have been so grossly costumed. Her stylist, Ragel, had nearly come to blows with me over the issue. He just couldn't understand why I wouldn't let him dress Annie the way he wanted to, why I was interfering with his business. If it was anyone else, I wouldn't have protested as much but it was Annie. No way was I letting her on that stage skimpily attired, not after suffering through the many lewd comments I received from Capitol citizens regarding Annie. Not for the first time, I gave thanks that I was Annie's mentor.

I had to hand it to her, Annie was more responsive than I expected toward my coaching. There was still a lot of tension between us over Mitch's Games, and I wanted more than anything to tell her everything, but I couldn't. There was no way I would ever expose her in that way. Better for her to remain ignorant. Still, I appreciated how she put aside any negativity in our mutual goal of her survival, confiding in me about the other tributes. District 2 was untrustworthy, I had expected that. And that District 1 boy…

I glared at his lanky form as he crossed the stage. Annie was bothered enough to mention him to me, and that was reason enough to do some more research on the idiot. I had called up an old friend from District 1, pressing her for information. Mervin Glassway, from District 1. Privileged kid of the elite, eighteen years old, one of the favorites heading into the Games. Remarkably smart and a damn fine physical specimen too apparently. The kid's stats were off the charts, and the Capitol was already drooling over him. However, either he was a damn good actor or he was legitimately unaffected by all the hype surrounding his Games debut. The kid was focused, I could see it in his eyes. And that focus was a threat.

"Irmyra, District 1!"

I sigh and settle in for a long night of interviews.

I'm so busy daydreaming and strategizing about who to talk to tonight I miss it when Caesar calls out Annie's name. A jab from Marcela jerks me out of my thoughts, and I mentally shake myself before focusing on the stage. I freeze.

It's the first time I've seen Annie this evening, really seen her. And she's perfect.

"Miss Annie, you look gorgeous if I may be so bold!" Annie blushes as Caesar gallantly offers her his arm, escorting her to her seat. Gorgeous is an understatement though. Annie is literally glowing, courtesy of the illuminated peach gown she has on. Sweet, innocent, and utterly unthreatening. Caesar is asking her something else now, but all I can hear is her answer.

"No not that many Caesar. Not many at all," Annie's voice is soft, her gentle cadence amplifying her image of innocence. "I didn't get asked out that much in District 4." Wait what question is she answering? I concentrate on Caesar's mouth. Oh. He's asking if Annie ever had a boyfriend.

Well now.

He's probing her, trying to get her to divulge something, anything, but Annie smiles and dodges all his questions. She plays it exactly right though, coming off as approachable but mysterious, a sweet girl who looks like she could have something hidden up her sleeve. I smile the tiniest bit. Caesar relents then turns to a more serious topic.

The bouncy, personable host leaned back in his chair, gazing at her thoughtfully. "You know Miss Annie, as soon as I heard your name it rang a bell. You're Mitch Cresta's sister, aren't you?" When she gives a small smile and nods he grins. "Never forget a tribute. I must say, the resemblance is uncanny. I don't believe we've ever had such a beautiful, talented family grace the stage before!" The audience hoots in agreement and I shoot a grin over at Cashmere, whose eyes narrow. She had a brother who also won his Games, and Caesar's basically called Annie more beautiful than her. Knowing Cashmere, she's probably going to go into a screaming fit after the show. Swallowing my smirk, I'm distracted by what Caesar's just said. "..feel to be sitting exactly where he was 2 years ago?"

My heart drops for a split second, but only a fleeting array of emotions flits across Annie's features and she quickly settles into a gracious smile. "Mitch has been such an inspiration for me ever since he was reaped and I'm sure to follow his example. I was always the more talented one though," she jokes slyly, rolling her shoulders. "So be sure to save this seat for me after I win, okay Caesar?" The audience chuckles and Caesar booms with laughter as the buzzer goes off. "I will most certainly remember that Miss Annie. It seems she has some hidden fire!" he calls to the audience. "Annie Cresta!"

Annie rises and waves at the audience before gliding back over to her seat. When she sits down, I see the District 2 boy eye her curiously, along with his district partner and District 1. They're obviously reevaluating their opinions now that they know for certain that Annie's brother is the legendary Mitch Cresta. Annie is oblivious to their attention though, simply clasping her hands and watching Kyle's interview attentively. I don't catch any of that interview, as distracted as I am with Annie. She will occasionally glance down at her hands and take a deep breath, or gaze around the room. Her calm mask slips when she thinks no one is looking, revealing the sadness etched upon it. Once, her eyes met mine, and, seeing the slight edge of panic in them, I smile and nod. Annie's shoulders relax slightly.

* * *

><p><em>Annie<em>

Stripping down to simple sweatpants and a tank top had never felt so good before. I sighed, suddenly on the verge of tears- the interview must have taken more out of me than I thought. I had managed to put Mitch out of my mind for most of my time at the Training Center, but Caesar had painfully pulled my brother to the forefront. Letting out a huff of air, I collapsed on the fluffy bed. I managed to get through the interview, dinner, and final meeting without anything showing. Trianga fluttered in the way she always did, Marcela barely keeping the contempt out of her voice as she struggled to ignore the frustratingly perky host, giving me last minute instructions and bracing words of encouragement. Kyle kissed my cheek before heading off to his quarters, no doubt to sleep. The boy could fall asleep in anything. Finnick though, hadn't said a word, only gripped my hands tightly before letting go. I shook my head, trying futily to clear my head. I firmly shut my eyes, determined not to open them until the next morning.

I gave up after an hour. There was just no way I was getting a decent night's rest, not with the bloodbath in less than 12 hours. Rising from my bed, I padded quietly out to the common living area, settling onto the couch and idly gazing out at the bright lights of the Capitol. There seemed to be more than usual, probably due to the Games tomorrow. Kickoff parties, no doubt.

"Annie?"

I turned my head to see Finnick gazing at me curiously, one hand in the middle of fastening a bright blue tie around his neck. I took in his attire- black pants, black button down, blue tie- before responding. "Going somewhere fun?"

"Just a…what are you doing out here by yourself?" Finnick sounded surprised, concerned, and flustered all at the same time. "You should be getting some sleep."

"Finn, could you sleep the night before your Games?" I leveled a look at him before waving my hand. "Don't worry about me, run along. I'll get to bed eventually."

Finnick was still looking at me strangely. "You know what? I think I'll stay here tonight." He pulled the tie off his neck before I could protest, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt before heading back to his room. "Let me get dressed." He was back before I could form a coherent thought, as casually dressed as I was in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Flopping down on the opposite end of the couch, we sat in silence for several moments.

"So um Finnick," My voice was hitched with uncertainty but Finnick just gazed at me, his sea green eyes curious. "Where were you going?"

Confusion, realization, resignation, and determination all flickered across his face before he answered. "I was going to the President's Kickoff Gala. It's a good place to pick up sponsors."

"O...oh."

Finnick nodded once, sitting quietly. It seemed that he was content with me controlling the flow of conversation, and for that I was glad. Finally, I spat out what was really bothering me.

"So why didn't you use any of the sponsor money on Mitch?"

The question hung between us in silence, though I knew he had heard me by the way he tensed. My heartbeat seemed so loud, pounding in my ears.

"Please," I whispered after he failed to respond after several minutes. "You owe me that much."

Finn's hands clenched into tight fists. "What I tell you," He began slowly, "can never be spoken of again, do you understand me?" I stared at him for a moment, but I had never seen Finn look so deadly serious before. I nodded slowly.

"The first thing you've got to understand is that the Reaping's are almost never left up to chance. Threatening a family with…"

Finnick talked for an indeterminate amount of time, weaving together a story almost too horrifying to believe. I had always known my father dabbled in politics, but the extent of his influence remained unknown to me until now. I never knew how my parents were important figures in the separatist movement of District 4, the one that sought to throw off the governing body of the Capitol and establish Four as an independent entity. There was a leak, and the Capitol targeted my family.

"Wait…so you're telling me that Mitch got picked to punish my parents?"

Finnick was quiet. "And me. They knew I was close to your family. I was being more rebellious than usual after my mom was arrested. Mitch never had a chance." His voice cracked slightly and only then did I remember that Mitch had been Finnick's best friend. Judging from his pained expression, he had yet to forgive himself for his role in Mitch's reaping. He heaved a breath "They told me if I helped Mitch out in any way during the Games…they would come for you."

What? "How…how did you find out?"

Finn swallowed. "They approached me after the Reaping. Told me as much, warned me off making any sort of effort." I sat stunned for a moment. Finding out that your life had been in danger when you thought you had been safe was unsettling to say the least.

"I told him Annie. Mitch knew everything. He…" Finnick looked at me, pain in his eyes. "He told me not to send him any parachutes. At all. To make it seem that I wasn't paying attention to him at all. I couldn't be in the Mentor Lounge more than an hour without arousing suspicion."

Shock had turned to numbness. It was like I couldn't feel anything. "So…so you just left. Went out into the Capitol without a second glance."

Finnick gazed at me for a moment, his eyes dark. "Do you really think I would do that?" he asked in a low voice. I merely looked at him, and the longer I looked the more his scowl deepened. "I didn't abandon him Annie, but I was stuck. I had to work indirectly. How do you think Nina just happened to have extra food with her? Or how the majority of weapons in the arena were in the Training Center in Four? That was all me." He was agitated that was certain, turning the full force of his burning gaze on me. "He was my best friend Annie."

I shook my head. "I don't know…" I whispered, my head spinning. I couldn't wrap my head around such a big revelation all at once. A conspiracy? My parents rebel leaders? Mitch refusing help because he knew that if he did they would come for me….Before I knew it I was crying. Finnick was telling the truth I could feel it. That was just the sort of thing Mitch would do. He would fight without help because I was in danger. And now, I see, so would Finnick. He would watch his best friend struggle alone in order to shield me from the Capitol.

"Why?" I sobbed, wiping my face off. "Why would you do that?" When Finnick slid across the couch to put his arms around me, I didn't protest. Finally the truth. After so many years of agony, the truth was finally out in the open. Now I could see just how much sacrifice went into keeping my heart beating. How much Finnick had suffered at my hands. He watched his best friend die for me, and then had to endure the years of hatred and anger I had mistakenly directed at him.

My voice was rusty. "Guess I owe you an apology huh?"

All I could feel was Finnick's strong heartbeat through his shirt. "Don't worry about it."

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><p>I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up as Finnick was laying me gently in my bed. It was pitch black, but I could sense his presence through his slow even breaths. "Finn?"<p>

"Did I wake you? Go back to sleep."

"No, wait." Now that I was awake I was certain that I wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon what with my heart pounding from how on edge I had been lately. "Turn on the lights will you?"

"Annie…"

"Seriously, I'm not going to be able to fall asleep now."

"You could put a little more effort in the meantime," Finn says dryly, but flicks on the lights to the lowest setting. "Anything else?"

"Well…" I was hesitant. "Would you…well would you mind talking to me some more?"

Even in the dim lighting I could see how his head cocked to the side, his mouth curving up in to a smile. "You telling me you are voluntarily asking me to talk?"

I crossed my arms. "Yes Finnick, that is what appears to be happening here."

Suddenly Finnick sounded unsure. "You really need your rest…"

"You help take my mind off tomorrow. Please Finn." I shifted on my bed, patting a space for him to sit. Grumbling, he came and sat down as I sat up, crossing my legs. I looked at him expectantly.

He raised his eyebrows. "What would you like to talk about?"

That was a very good question. Flailing, I seized on the first question that came to my mind. "Strategy! What if it comes down to just me and Kyle?"

Finnick gave me a look and I winced apologetically. So much for keeping my mind off the Games. "It won't, and if it seems like it would come down to that I want you to leave him then. That's what normally happens." He hesitated a second before adding, "That's what happened in my Games."

I had forgotten that he allied with his District partner that year, a girl named Mystia. They stayed together until the final 8, when they split up. She was killed only a day after by a Career tribute that had been hunting Finnick and Mystia down, but by the look in his eyes I could tell Finnick had never quite forgiven himself for that.

"Does it get easier?" I said suddenly.

"Hmmm?"

"Does it get easier. Living with yourself after killing an ally. Or abandoning them."

He closed his eyes, his face suddenly vulnerable. Running a hand through his hair, he answered me in a low voice. "You try to convince yourself it does. But no, it doesn't."

I simply watched him in respectful silence for a while. Tentatively reaching out my hand to his, I gripped it lightly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night."

He cracked open one eye after a moment, his face softening slightly. "You know, I never pictured such dirty words coming out of your mouth."

His tone was teasing, and I colored at the well-deserved ribbing. "Well...living by the trawlers you do pick up some of the lingo."

Finnick smiled. "I noticed."

* * *

><p>All too soon Trianga was pounding away at my door, trilling away about how such a "Good morning it is!" Illogically, I managed to fall asleep for a few hours though I credit that largely in part to my company. Somehow I managed to fall asleep in Finnick's arms again, because when I woke up, he was sitting up against my headboard holding me, his eyes a million miles away. How did this happen? The last thing I remember was laughing about old Moe the fish vendor on the corner of Shell and First…dammit.<p>

Finnick gave a soft laugh when I groaned as Trianga repeated her morning greeting. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept at all. He gave a shrug when I questioned him about it.

"Too busy thinking I guess."

I tried to linger in bed as much as possible, but Trianga refused to become discouraged and leave. Pounding the door with surprising force, her voice became shriller and shriller until I winced in sympathy. Finnick laughed before gently disentangling himself from me. "You'll do great, don't worry. I'll see you on the other side." Kissing my forehead, he crossed the floor before dramatically throwing open the door in Trianga's face, sauntering past her dumbstruck expression. She gaped from him to me, and from behind her Finnick winked.

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><p><strong>Criticisms? Praise? Get at me! Also I need a beta for this fic so if you're interested message me! Keep on keeping on y'all!<strong>


	9. Twice in a Day? Oh Hey, Okay!

**Disclaimer: Own nothing!**

**Ehh so this chapter's kinda boring in my opinion. Not much going on. Its going to get juicy though, just you wait!**

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><p>The blast from the cannon took me off guard, and before I'd fully realized it, I was sprinting forward, my eyes automatically scanning my opponents, my body ducking and weaving around my fellow tributes and the knives that Slome has been whipping at everyone not in the Career group. My eyes were fixed on the spear lying not 20 yards from me. If I could just make it that far, I would be able to defend myself.<p>

"Annie! Deck!"

_Deck._ District 4 slang for dropping to your hands and knees on a boat while in a storm. I flung myself to the ground instinctually and heard the whistle as a sword passed through the space where my head had been just moments earlier. Rolling with my fall, I came up into a crouch only to be tackled by the District 9 boy. He was huge and heavy and tried to fasten his meaty fingers around my throat. Gagging, I frantically scanned the field. Kyle, who'd warned me, was already engaged in hand to hand with the District 6 girl. No help there. His fingers twisted tighter around my neck.

Years of martial arts training suddenly kicked in and I swung my feet around, breaking his grip and twisting my head out of his grasp. There was a quiver of arrows within arms distance and I reached out and snagged one, bringing it around to slam into his neck when suddenly he sprayed blood from his mouth, and with a surprised expression, toppled to the ground.

Mervin was standing there, a bloody sword in his hand, looking positively terrifying, a large grin stretching across his face. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile. We stared at each other for a split second, then he smirked and reached down to help me up. "Work in pairs eh? That way you always have someone watching your back."

I didn't really know what to make of Mervin's sudden camaraderie, but at that point in time, in the middle of a vicious bloodbath, I would take it. I grabbed hold of his proffered hand and he hauled me to my feet, tossing me the spear I had been gunning for earlier. "Take the far side." he instructed, already eyeing some distant target. "Jaulon and Fresia are over there. Hey," he grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him. For a split second his face cracked in a smile, surprisingly warm and friendly. "Just like we were in the Training Center, eh?" He ran off after another tribute, leaving me standing confused for a split second before I shook my head and ran toward the rest of my group.

After it ended, the Career group reassembled at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Everyone was breathing hard, blood splattered across our clothing, various cuts and scrapes adding to our macabre appearance. I shifted uncomfortably, trying not to look at the bodies lying strewn across the clearing. In a chance of circumstances, I hadn't actually had to kill anyone. After Mervin left me to go after a particularly powerful looking boy from District 11, I hadn't gone three steps before I spied another tribute taking aim at Dale with a knife. I threw my spear before I truly processed what was happening, the weapon firmly embedding itself several inches in the girl's calf. She screamed and went down, Darmth finishing her off with a quick stomp on her neck. My memory got hazy after that. All I could remember was running, throwing, sweating. Mervin was a dark blur, killing with impunity. Like he had with me, I saw him save several of the others as well. I took a quick inventory of myself. My arm was lightly bleeding from a brush with the District 3 girl, but other than that I made it through the bloodbath relatively unscathed.

Mervin was the first to speak, bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. "Did we lose anyone?" he gasped, straightening up, his dark eyes flickering around us.

I looked at Kyle, and he gave me a wink. District 4 was here at least.

"Jaulon's dead," Irmyra said bitterly. "District 12 bitch took him out after playing dead." There was a dangerous glint in her eyes, almost as if Jaulon's killing was a personal offense against her. It surprised me. I knew Irmyra and Jaulon had grown closer over the past few days, but maybe I'd underestimated the extent of their relationship. The hint of pain in her eyes seemed to suggest it.

We were quiet for a moment, but Mervin straightened up, counting the rest of us. "Well, we can't do anything about that now. Only lost one, not bad for the first day. Let's get camp set up." I looked around, wondering who was left. Mervin and Irmyra from District 1, Darmth and Fresia from District 2, me and Kyle, Slome, Dale from District 10 and Hollen from District 8. Nine Careers, and, I did a quick count, seven other tributes. Only 8 had been killed today, a relatively peaceful bloodbath. Most years it was double that, but, as I heard Mervin say after Irmyra questioned him, "It's because the Career pack is so big. Most of the mentors had to have warned their tributes to leave first thing."

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><p>Kyle flung down an armful of wood then sprawled out next to me, his bare shoulders glistening from the sweat of his exertions. "Whew. Think that should be enough to get us through the night at least."<p>

"Boy, that won't even get us through 3 hours," I said dryly after surveying the amount of wood he brought back. I stood up and stretched out. "I'll go gather some more. You stay here as sentry."

Kyle opened his mouth in protest but a quiet voice cut him off. "No, Kyle stay here, I'll go with Annie." Mervin seemed to materialize next to us in the fading afternoon light, his tall frame casting shadows across where we were. Kyle swore under his breath- it was eerie how quiet Mervin moved, and it disturbed me how easily he was able to sneak up on us.

I hesitated in answering him. Was this just a plot to separate us in order to start the killing? As if sensing the direction of my thoughts Mervin gave a mirthless smile. "It's the first day Annie. I need you as much as you need me."

As if the powerful District 1 tribute needed me at all. Still, I didn't see anything in his dark eyes that would suggest some sort of deception. "Fine." Giving Kyle an almost imperceptible shake of the head, I turned and strode toward the woods, not waiting for an answer. I didn't hear Mervin catch up, but I felt his presence gliding soundlessly behind me as the forest swallowed us up.

It was quiet for a quarter of an hour or so as we collected kindling from the forest. Mervin coughed. "Do you mind if I ask you a question Annie?"

I jumped slightly at the sound of his quiet voice. "Mmm?" I said distractedly, still scouring the forest floor.

"I was wondering if maybe you could tell me more about your brother actually."

I froze, shock cementing me in place. Had I heard him right? What did a District 1 tribute want to know about Mitch? He didn't even win! I forced myself to speak, my voice raw and cracking. "What about him?"

"Well, Mitch was one of the tributes we studied back at home and," Mervin stopped, looking at me with a concerned expression. "It's okay if you don't want to."

I recovered fast. "No no no it's fine," I said hastily, aware we were probably being broadcast to the rest of Panem. "So you studied…Mitch's Games then."

"Yea," Mervin said almost reverently. "His strategy was amazing. Surviving as long as he did without alliances, taking out more than half by himself…he's like a legend."

"A legend who's dead," I shot back almost immediately, and then clenched my teeth in frustration. Why couldn't I think before speaking?

This stole whatever animation had given light to his features, his face once again assuming his normal stony expression. "That was a freak accident. Everyone knows your brother should have won."

"How's that?" I asked frowning. "The victor was from District 1."

"Maybe," Mervin shrugged. "She didn't play it right though. Your brother strategized, adapted, actually played the Games like they're designed. Everyone knows he should have won. He deserved it much more so than Sheena." he said, an edge of disgust in his voice. He added under his breath. "Airhead."

I snorted with laughter, and then sat on a fallen tree thoughtfully. "So Mitch is like a big deal in your District then?"

Mervin nodded, seemingly exhausted his supply of words for the moment. He wandered a short distance away, picking through the brush for appropriate firewood material. I attempted to do the same, but now that Mitch was on my mind it was almost impossible to concentrate.

It was nice in the woods, the birdsong and the sunlight trickling down between the treetops and illuminating the clearing. I let myself relax for a moment, humming quietly to myself.

"Down!" came Mervin's roar from somewhere to my left.

I obeyed the order instantly, and for the second time that day, I felt some sort of weapon whiz over my head. Damn! Who was attacking me? In a millisecond my knife was in my hand, I was on my feet, only to see a boy barreling toward me with a set of vicious axes. He was fast, and it was all I could do to process the situation when one came flying at my head. I blocked it with the hilt of my knife, but the impact sent a tremor all the way up my arm, knocking me down to the ground once more. Luckily, there was a drop off behind me and I used the slope to my advantage, rolling down it, putting as much distance between myself and those axes. I needed a plan. Close quarters combat with just a knife wasn't going to cut it, not with the way that boy could throw, and I stupidly didn't have any kind of decent ranged weapon. I could throw the knife I suppose but then I'd be defenseless.

Mervin was running toward me, pulling his sword up to bear when I spotted movement from behind him. A girl raising a blowdart… The knife whizzed from my hand and struck her on the shoulder- painful, but not fatal. I cursed under my breath, berating myself for not sinking the knife into her chest. I realized I was instinctively avoiding a kill shot, but that mercy would get me killed. While Mervin turned to deal with the newfound threat, I whirled to take on the boy with the axes.

The boy had disappeared. What? He was just there! A shout of frustration, apprehension, and fear rose in my chest as I whirled around, eyes jerking at every movement. _Move! Move!_ I screamed at myself.I jerked at the boom of a cannon. Was it Mervin? I forced myself to concentrate. _Move dammit!_ In that kind of situation you didn't want to remain stationary like I was. That put the advantage on your enemy- they know where you are, but you don't know where they are. There was always a chance that the direction you moved in could be straight at the enemy, but there's just as many chances not. It was a gamble of sorts, a gamble I knew I was supposed to take, but my feet seemed stuck in the small clearing.

It was a fatal mistake it seemed. Before I could override my instinctual response to freeze, he was there. So close I knew I couldn't reach out for any makeshift weapons, or evade him. I saw my eyes, huge and full of surprise mirrored in his.

There was a shout and a shuriken suddenly whistled through the air, embedding itself firmly in the boy's leg. Hamstrung. With a scream of pain he fell though he still aimed the axe at me, his eyes full of hate and pain. Mervin bounded into the clearing with that fierce grin on his face, slamming the axe to the ground with a stomp from his boot then thrusting his sword into the boy's chest. Perfectly placed, right over the heart. The boy died within seconds, a clean, painless kill. The cannon fired.

He turned to me then, and I'm struck once again by how powerful he is, how skilled he is at killing. Every step perfectly choreographed, every swing of his sword calm and graceful. It's almost an art performance when Mervin kills. He looked at me with a quizzical expression, the grin that he only has during combat fading.

I finally found my voice. "…Thanks."

Something flickered in eyes, but he simply walked over to where I stand, his sword hanging by his sided, eyes fixed on my face. "Annie? Annie did he hurt you?"

It confused me at first, his gentle tone, the slow words, until I realized what I must have looked like to him. Eyes wide, slow responses- on the verge of battle shock. Mutely I shook my head.

He was still talking in that same slow voice. "They're gone now okay? I'm going to check to see who attacked us before the hovercars get here. I'll be right over here."

I couldn't do anything but watch as he flipped the body of the axe boy over, checking for signs of identification. Seemingly satisfied, he disappeared to presumably wherever the other assailant who died by his hand lay. He was back within a minute, his sword sheathed at his side. "District 7 and District 5," he muttered to me. "Must have teamed up."

His words meant nothing to me, as I kept seeing the face of the boy rearing back for the fatal blow. I didn't even realize I was shivering until I fell awkwardly to the ground, my legs seemingly made of water. Before I was sent sprawling into the dirt however, Mervin's arms came swooping up to catch me, hands clamped around my upper arms. He awkwardly helped me regain my footing though he kept a firm grip on my waist.

"Er…sorry." I mumbled, pushing away from him, but he didn't let go. Surprised, I glanced up at his face.

He was scanning the forest intently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "We should get back to the camp. I don't think those two were working with anyone else, but you never know." Suddenly he realized he was still holding me. "Oh…sorry."

I murmured something indistinguishable, brushing off my jacket and pants. We silently picked up the firewood we had managed to gather and started walking back to camp. Occasionally Mervin would signal me to stop, scanning the forest before continuing on. I simply plodded along behind him, too emotionally exhausted to do much more. Two instances in less than 12 hours where I felt a weapon whiz over my head was draining.

"Thank you though," Mervin said softly, causing me to do a double take. Had he just spoken? "Throwing your knife away like that," he added quietly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "You saved my life."

"…Oh. Um, no problem. I'm sorry, I should have killed her. I don't know what's wrong with me, my aim's all off."

Mervin glanced at me. "It's normal. It takes a lot to overcome your reservations enough to kill." The way he spoke, emotionless and detached, made me question whether or not killing came as easily to him as it appeared. "Some people can't. It's not weakness, it's just how some people are."

We walked along in silence before I spoke up again. "How do you do it then?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I don't think of it as killing. I'm too busy taking everything in I guess. Sizing them up, analyzing the best way to take them down, calculating angles…it doesn't leave much room to think."

"Sounds very…complicated." I wrinkled my nose at the thought. "All those things are running through your head at once?"

His mouth quirked up in a half smile. "Yours too. I bet you don't even realize how much more efficiently your brain works in times of stress." Suddenly his smile disappeared and he dropped the wood he was carrying, drawing his sword so quickly I blinked in surprise. His voice was low. "There's someone coming."

I dropped the wood I was carrying as well, reaching around Mervin and grabbing the knife he had strapped to his side. "Get in the trees," I hissed. He nodded, and we both rapidly climbed up into separate trees. We made a good team I noticed, taking complimenting trees to create a rough "kill box." I looked at him and he gazed back with his dark eyes.

Five people walked into the clearing, their faces hidden by their jacket's hoods, stopping when they noticed the abandoned piles of wood on the ground. "Well they were definitely here." Irmyra's voice rang out clear as a bell. I stiffened and glanced at Mervin. With a subtle movement, he motioned for me to stay in the tree and watch.

"Don't kill me." Mervin called from his tree. With a short motion, he jumped down, landing on his haunches before straightening up and brushing off his hands. The others whirled to face him, weapons raised and ready but most lowered them once they saw who it was.

"Merv!" Irmyra cried, rushing forward and hugging him. "We heard the cannons and saw the hovercar and…"

"Where's Annie?" Kyle asked menacingly, stepping forward, spear still up.

Mervin put an arm around Irmyra's waist, hugging her back briefly before answering him. "Annie's fine Kyle. She's up there. You can come down now Annie," he called up.

Sheathing Mervin's knife, I quickly shimmied down the tree. Kyle helped me with the last few feet, lifting me down off the tree easily. "Jeez Annie you scared me. I thought he killed you." He muttered, setting me down on the ground again. "Who were the cannons for?"

"We had a run in with some tributes from 7 and 5. We took care of them, but we should be getting back to camp. Who's guarding it anyway?" Mervin suddenly asked suspiciously.

"Fresia and Dale are back there. We didn't know if something had killed you and Annie and figured a big group was the better choice." Darmth shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "7 and 5?"

"Just two. I don't think they were with any others, but in any case we need to get back. Darmth and Slome, you're on point. Irmrya you're our rear guard. Hollen, get Annie's wood pile for her will you?" When I started to protest he cut me off. "I know you can carry it but you were 2 inches away from getting an axe in your skull. Relax." He turned and picked up his wood. "All right, let's move."

I grumbled all the way back to camp, Kyle warily walking next to me. Once we got back Mervin started issuing rapid fire orders again. "It's going to get dark soon. Kyle, Irmyra, double back and make sure we weren't followed. Darmth, organize our weapons. Slome and Dale, put together some day packs in case we can't get back here by morning. Fresia, Hollen, you're guarding the camp tonight, sorry. Annie-"

"The fuck Mervin, I'm not fucking standing guard again. I came here to go hunting, not play guard dog." Fresia stood with her hands on her hips, her pose bristling with hostility. An uncomfortable silence filled the camp and I shifted uneasily.

Slome stepped forward in the silence. "Well, bitch, seeing as though someone needs to-"

"Slome." Mervin's voice was quiet, but after a moment Slome backed down. Mervin stared at Fresia a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not it was worth it to argue. With a sigh, he relented. "Fine. We're all taking a guard shift at some point though. Slome, do you mind…?"

Slome glared at Fresia but nodded. "It's fine Mervin."

"Good." With that Mervin turned away from the angry District 2 female. "Annie, you're with me. We're going to scout the surrounding area, see which way seems like the most promising and map out any obstacles." He suddenly stopped and glared at everyone still standing there. "Well? Let's get on with it."

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><p>"Magnificent, absolutely magnificent display of leadership there Caesar."<p>

"You're absolutely right Drenald. I'm telling you, if that young man wins these Games he has a very bright future in front of him as a Peacekeeper, or even more! Now we all know that Mr. Glassway's father, Freer, was decorated…"

Finnick snorted and hit the mute button on the display, leaning back and resting his head on laced fingers. The commentators had talked of the District 1 tribute and little else since the Games began, and Finnick was a little more than annoyed. Something about the tribute just put his teeth on edge, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that bothered him. He wished Annie wasn't in such close proximity with this Mervin Glassway, but he grudgingly acknowledged that he was probably her best chance of survival at this point. He had, after all, saved her life twice now.

He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. That had been awful. As soon as the gong had rang, Finnick's heart had been in his throat. He almost had a coronary when the boy from District 9 had tackled Annie to the ground, relaxing slightly when District 1 had killed the boy instead. Watching the bloodbath had aged him several years, he was almost certain of it. It was bad every year, but this year was especially so. Annie's name had been on his lips the entire time, and though Finnick had long since stopped believing in any higher being, he found himself praying to every deity he could think of. Annie was more than capable though, making it through the bloodbath with barely more than a scratch. Still, it had terrified him, watching her dodge knives and spears and every other weapon under the sun. She even held her own in hand to hand against the monstrous District 6 boy, pinning him to the ground before Kyle had come up and finished him off.

Still it was worse several hours later as Annie was with the District 1 boy gathering wood. Spectators had known the girl from District 5 and the boy from District 7 had been stalking them, and Finnick had almost gone insane trying to figure out how to warn her, yelling obscenities at the screen in the mentor's lounge. Once again, Annie had come within a hairsbreadth of death, and once again District 1 had been there to save her. He gritted his teeth. She wouldn't have needed saving if she hadn't thrown her weapon away! He was going to strangle her once this was over, because, of course, she was going to win. Throwing away her only weapon to save an ally of several hours!

He shook his head and then leaned back forward, studying the screens. It was going to be a long Hunger Games.

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><p><strong>Suggestions? Criticisms, Concerns? Get at me. <strong>


	10. Giving and Taking Lives

**Disclaimer: Own nothing!**

**Shorter update than usual, sorry guys classes have started. I will do my best to update, I'm enjoying seeing how this is turning out.**

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><p>Once the skyline display winked off with a musical flourish, I stumbled over to the edge of the woods and vomited, heaving up whatever food I had choked down that day. I could still see them. Their accusing eyes, their cold stares. Maybe I hadn't been the one to physically wield the weapon that took their life, but I was just as responsible. Their blood was on my hands as surely as if I had stabbed them.<p>

I could feel the others watching me from camp. "Oh jeez," Fresia muttered.

"Shut up." Kyle shot back, his angry voice drifting over to where I still stood hunched over. I appreciated that- just let me do whatever needs to be done, and I'd be fine. I felt a hand touch my lower back bracingly, the other sweeping back my hair for me. After my last heave, I straightened up to thank who I assumed to be Kyle.

"Oh!" Surprised, I froze. It wasn't Kyle who stood next to me, but Mervin, his face hidden in the shadows. He withdrew his hand from my hair slowly, allowing the locks to slide between his fingers before settling back on my shoulders. His voice was quiet. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yep!" I squeaked, my voice higher than normal. "Never better. Let's go hunting!" He didn't move out of my way, instead shifting to shield us from the rest of our group. I gulped and reluctantly glanced up at him as he towered over me, still silent and thoughtful. "Mervin?"

"You didn't kill any of them you know. None of it was your fault."

"I said I was fine. Let's go. Excuse me." With that I brushed past him rudely, embarrassment manifesting itself as irritation. How did he know what I was thinking all the time? I didn't need his pity. What had he said? Some people just weren't meant to kill? With a growl I realized with an awful sinking feeling that he had been describing me. I just wasn't cut out for killing, so of course where do I end up? The arena of course. How ironic.

I rejoined the others, my mental state slightly hysterical at that point. Great. I was incapable of killing and I was supposed to win a tournament where the only way to advance was to kill everyone. My hysteria must have shown on my face because Kyle came up to me, his brow furrowed, voice low. "It's okay Annie. It's going to be okay, I promise."

I simply stared at him as he kept talking in that same low, calm voice and surprisingly felt myself responding to his tone. By the time Mervin had reappeared back at the head of the group, I had reigned in enough control to keep my emotions at bay and stood gripping my gear anxiously. We weren't taking a whole lot as we expected to be back before the sunrise, but I had a small daypack with several packets of food, a container of water, a thin thermal blanket just in case, and weapons. Three knives were strapped to my waist and I carried a spear in one hand. I also had the blowdart Mervin had confiscated from District 5's body, but the thought of using it made me feel queasy. I was only carrying it as a last resort.

The others had similar gear with a few modifications. Dale carried a medipack, on the off chance someone would try to take on the Career pack so early in the game. Darmth and Mervin had the night vision glasses, and Fresia carried several explosives. Kyle brought a net that he had fashioned just hours before, and spear like me. All in all, we were very equipped.

Mervin crouched down in front of us, drawing in the dirt. "There's five people left, males from Districts 3 and 8, and females from 6, 10, and 11. Three shouldn't be an issue, he was wounded running away, and I don't think eleven should cause much problems, she looked very young. Six didn't strike me as particularly dangerous, but both eight and ten had high training scores." He traced out a rough table, labeling each tribute. "They're probably going to be the toughest to track as well. Dale, do you know anything about your district partner?"

"Reana?" Dale shifted uncomfortably, his small face twisting as he struggled to answer. "Well…she's older than I am. I think she's 18…yeah she has to be. But umm…" Dale was flustered, grasping for words. I sympathized with him; even though they had effectively chosen separate sides, it couldn't have been easy to basically sell her out to us. "She worked with the herds, scaring away the predators from the animals."

"Guard duty? What kind of training do they receive?" Mervin asked sharply, fixing his gaze on Dale.

"Umm, well, they carry crossbows I know…"

Mervin quietly cursed under his breath. "I saw her running away with one too. Most likely she knows how to use it. Slome." He turned toward the slight District 7 tribute.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you can follow us up in the trees? I want some eyes up there. If she's smart, she'll be hiding out somewhere in the treetops."

She nodded her head. "Yeah no problem. Piece of cake."

Mervin jerked his chin. "Let's go then."

A few hours later, I was grumpy and tired and unhappy. We had been walked for hours, and now it was the dead of night and we had yet to come across any of the other tributes. I felt a slight twisting of my stomach at that; it bothered me that I was actually wanting to find the other tributes. I kept running through it in my head, trying to absolve myself of the situation. In a way, it would be more merciful if we found them quickly. With such a large Career pack and so many skilled Careers they had no chance of winning, even I knew that. The sooner we took them out of their misery, the sooner it would be over for all of us and the less time they would have to spend in the arena in a constant state of fear.

I growled in frustration and viciously kicked a rock. Who was I kidding? I was hunting down children with the intent to kill them! No matter my intentions, I was still a monster.

"Whoa there Annie," Kyle murmured from somewhere beside me in the shadows. His elbow bumped mine, and I recognized it as a consoling gesture.

Sighing, I readjusted my gear and trudged on. Mervin and Darmth were talking quietly at the head of our rough formation, but they were too far away for me to catch any of their words. Suddenly a soft whistle sounded from the treetops.

Mervin's sword was drawn in an instant, and I could see his eyes scanning the forest as he stood, his pose rigid. Darmth smiled, baring his teeth and Kyle held his spear loosely at his side. I put a hand on the hilt of one of my knives.

There was a small thump as Slome leaped gracefully down from the tree she was in. "There's someone ahead, on the ground," she whispered. "I think they're asleep, but I don't know."

Mervin nodded. With quick hand signals, he motioned me and Kyle to take the right flank and Fresia and Slome to take the left flank. With Darmth and Dale several paces behind him, he slowly approached the spot where Slome had seen the sleeping tribute. He took a step, and an ominous snap echoed through the small clearing. He turned to us.

Zzzzt. All of the sudden, the forest floor crackled with electricity, hissing and sparking, wires flailing. Mervin, Darmth, and Dale all let out cries of pain and toppled, slamming into the ground where they twitched and spasmed horribly. I was running around the clearing toward them, trying in some way to pull them off the wires before their bodies were overcome from the electricity. Kyle was hot on my heels, and I could see Fresia and Slome sprinting toward them as well.

The District 3 male suddenly shot out of the bushes toward Fresia and Slome, screaming and brandishing more wires. I yelled a warning and Slome whirled, her eyes widening. She was saved by a lifetime of knife throwing though. Before the warning had even died off my lips, the boy staggered and fell, a knife sunk up to its hilt in his chest. Fresia stomped up and slammed her foot down on his neck. A cannon fired.

The wires were still active though, judging by the twisted faces and gasps of pain from Mervin, Darmth and Dale. Mervin had managed to crawl closer to the edge of the clearing before collapsing and shaking violently, an expression of agony prominent in the hard lines of his face. I reached out to grab his hand but Kyle suddenly pulled me back. "Stop! We need something to dampen the current!"

I ripped off my jacket, balling it up around my fingers before reaching out again and grabbing Mervin's arm firmly. I heaved backward, but the deadweight of Mervin's body almost toppled me onto the wires. Kyle reached his arms around me and helped pull, and together we were able to slide Mervin off the wires and onto the forest floor. Fresia and Slome were attempting to drag Darmth out as well, and as soon as Mervin was in the clear, Kyle left to go help them.

Mervin went limp as soon as he escaped the wires, lying utterly motionless on the dirt, his breaths shallow gasps. I knelt next to him, my hands fluttering helplessly over his body. It looked bad, hideous red and black burns covering his body, several spots where the flesh had been charred off completely almost down to the bone. I bit my lip- at least he was still breathing. Of course, how things were going lately no sooner had that thought had crossed my mind when Mervin suddenly took a rattling breath, and then was still.

"No!"

The cry ripped from my throat before I realized it. Like lightning, I was shocked into action. Ignoring the burns for the time being, I ripped away the remains of Mervin's shirt so his chest lay bare before me and rapidly started chest compressions. It seemed an eternity, the rhythm of the movement coming as naturally to me as walking – everyone in District 4 was taught resuscitation efforts as soon as we were able, and we all practiced regularly. Still, nothing could have prepared me for the actual conditions. The pounding of your own heartbeat, the dizzying rush of adrenaline that shook your hands, the panic that made your own breathing a struggle. Mervin didn't twitch, didn't move a muscle. I was afraid he had died in my arms.

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><p><em>Finnick<em>

Finnick strode around the room, swearing so violently several of the other mentors cast him wary glances before concentrating back on their screens. Marcela sat in her recliner, eyeing him through narrowed eyes but she didn't say anything. With huff of air, Finnick leaned up against the edge of his chair, forearm muscles rippling in agitation. Annie had come within a whisper of death once again, and he was forced to watch every agonizing moment as she crept closer and closer toward the deadly trap the District 3 tribute had set up. And then when she tried to pull the District 1 tribute out…

He sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose with his fingers, the icy fear still pumping through his bloodstream after seeing her almost fall onto the lethal electricity. Setting down his hand back where it was, he glared at the screen which showed Annie trying to revive the District 1 boy. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. If the girl had any sense she would have just let them all die by the wires. Distasteful yes, but preferable to have to stick the knife in their gut yourself. It seemed that Kyle was as idiotic as Annie was, the cameras showing how he dragged the District 2 tribute out of the trap as well. Finnick snorted in contempt. Mercy had no place in the arena.

"They can't help it Finnick," Marcela said softly, her first words to him since the action started. "That's how they're trained – to remain in a team as long as possible."

"They're rescuing their biggest threats!" He shot back angrily, clenching and unclenching his fists. "They're going to have to kill them eventually."

"If I recall, you saved a fellow Career in your Games." Marcela raised an eyebrow as he mutter indistinguishably under his breath. "They're doing what any decent human being would do."

Finnick sank back down in his chair, his mind whispering in his ear. _Decent human beings don't win the Hunger Games._

* * *

><p>"Annie!"<p>

Slome rushed up, throwing herself on the ground beside Mervin and me. I ignored her, leaning forward and pressing my mouth to his, forcing air into his lungs. His lips tasted like blood. One, two, three, four…one more I bent my head to his, blowing more air in, noting with some hysteria how he seemed no different. Suddenly Mervin's eyes wrenched open, his body heaving in a huge gasp of air before collapsing back onto the ground, breathing hard.

"Mervin!" My exclamation was echoed by Slome. Mervin didn't say anything, breathing hard for another few moments then heaving himself to his feet before I could protest. "What are you doing, you were just dead!" I half shouted at him. His twisted expression cut me off, his teeth gritted in agony, face tight. He breathed deeply, keeping his balance as he swayed slightly from side to side. Instinctively I went and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him steady.

He leaned on me then spoke, but not to me. "Leave him!"

I blinked at the harsh tone, only just now cataloguing my surroundings. Fresia knelt on the ground next to Darmth, who was just then grimacing and sitting up. Kyle and Slome were by the wires again, futilely trying to rescue the horrifying, writhing, shrieking body that was Dale. Shocked, I stared at Mervin. He was going to just leave Dale to this horrible death?

I tried to read his expression but it was carefully controlled. "Leave him," Mervin repeated, though in a softer tone. "We can't help him."

"Not while he's still alive," Kyle snarled, turning back to the wires. I was about to pitch Mervin and join him, but his precarious swaying and shakiness kept me rooted in place. For the second time that night, I felt my eyes fill with tears and I struggled to block out Dale's inhuman screams. As much as I hated to admit it, Mervin was right. We couldn't save Dale. Even if we managed to pull him from the wires, I could already see that he would die anyway. But we could save him suffering. With shaking hands I helped Mervin support himself against a tree, drawing my knife out slowly. He nodded at me. As I turned to take aim around Kyle's shoulders, all I could see was Dale's perpetually cheerful face, even when screaming in agony. I threw the knife.

A cannon boomed.

* * *

><p><strong>Boo depressing, I really liked Dale. So I was toying with the idea of writing the next chapter focussing on Finnick instead of Annie, exploring what it means to be a mentor and such. That, or continue in the arena, where you'd find out why Dale was even part of the Career group in the first place! Criticism, suggestions, commentary? Get at me.<strong>


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